


Beatrice Santello

by Bluedraggy



Series: Beatrice Santello (series) [1]
Category: Night In The Woods (Video Game)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-14 07:51:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 20,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19268908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluedraggy/pseuds/Bluedraggy
Summary: An imagining of what might have happened prior to the events of NitW. These chapters form a "Part 1" of the story. There will be a "Part 2" with events after NitW eventually. Right now I'm just focused on this though.  Chapter 1 was originally just a stand-alone vignette, but I was inspired (and coerced gently) to continue the story. It is adult in nature for sure,  but it will not be explicit. I also plan to include some of my coloring work on others' drawings/sketches as well as just others' works to add a bit of interest. Those will also be adult in nature, but not explicit.  If this breaks some sort of code on AO3, I'll revise. (New to AO3)





	1. Beatrice Santello - Alone in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Original drawing by semlgrim. Colored and edited by Bluedraggy.  
> This chapter was originally a single, short vignette.

Beatrice Santello - (Ch. 1)

* * *

She lay awake, listening to the wind outside her window and watching the glow of her cigarette as it dimmed and faded slowly, extinguishing the only light in the room. She knew she should be sleeping, but this was turning into another one of _those_ nights. Her mind whirled with random dark thoughts. Far away, thunder rolled across the forested hills. But like every other event of even modest excitement, it had missed Possum Springs. Storms were rare this late in the year, and the chill of winter was obvious in the mornings.

Tomorrow was Sunday though, and she didn’t have to open the Ol’ Pickaxe. But she’d decided she might go in anyway - if only to get out of the house. Sometimes she did that, and she might have a customer or two even though it was supposed to be closed on Sundays. They could certainly use the money. But at least she could stay up a little later and sleep in an extra hour or two.

She heard her father snoring in his room. It was an oddly comforting sound though. One day he’d be gone, and she’d miss that sound. When she was younger, it had ruined a sleepover when her friend couldn’t sleep with the constant low rumble, but she liked it anyway.

She snuffed out the remains of the cigarette and pulled out her laptop. It took forever to start up. She wished she could get a new one, but of course that was out of the question. There were lots of things she wished she could replace in her life. She looked at the drab black dress she wore, one of three, lying on the ground now in a rumpled heap. It had been years since she’d even thought about it, and all it implied. Once it had been edgy and cool, and her Ankh was a mysterious symbol of protest against establishment and religion.

Now it was just another thing, old and devoid of meaning. She wore it because she had always worn it. She put the makeup around her eyes because she always had. She no longer believed even in the power of Unbelief. But things sometimes stayed the same just due to inertia.

“That’s my life now,” she cried internally. “Inertia.”

But no tears would come tonight. She had none left, surely. She’d left caring behind. The days passed now, just waiting for her dad to die - and he wasn’t even sick. Well, not physically anyway. It could be another thirty years for all she knew. She thought about that. Thirty Years. She would be fifty by then. It would take a lot of luck for the store to still be open.

She’d managed alright so far, through very thrifty means and some slightly shady hiring practices. She paid Germ in cash under the table, avoiding Workman’s Compensation, payroll taxes, all of it. And she did have some luck. There was a new house being built down the road - the first in ten years - and she’d convinced the contractors to buy their hardware from her. But there was talk of a big-box hardware store going in by the Ham Panther. If that happened, the Ol’ Pickaxe was ruined. Her customers swore they’d be loyal to her and her dad, but she knew better. They were going over to the Ham Panther to buy their groceries now, so how easy would it be to drop by the Home Badger and get their hardware too?

She wished her father was dead. Then she could fly away. She loved her father. It was a very hard reality - but she was a realist. She loved him, and she wished he was dead.

The snoring stopped for a moment, and she held her breath. But with a snort, it resumed again.

A tear came to her eye. Crocodile tear. She wiped it away in anger. She didn’t really wish he was dead. She wished her mom was alive. That’s all. But that grief was old and dusty now.

She looked down at her body. The scales glistened in the glow from the laptop screen and she reminded herself of a huge snake, horrible and loathsome. Even worse were the curves that shouldn’t be there for any self-respecting snake. There weren’t many of her kind in town, and those she knew, she hated. Not much chance of companionship in the next thirty years for her. She’d accepted that though… hadn’t she? Sure, guys were such pigs that they’d be more than happy to stick it in her for a lark, but companionship just wasn’t in the cards for someone like her. If she hadn’t gotten over it long ago, she should have. No white knight was going to be coming to her rescue.

She did like Jackie though. Not like that. She was just fun to hang around with. Bea felt like she was somehow elevated, just to be in her presence. Maybe it was just all the college kids too. They had an outward look on life that she envied. She would have been one of them by now, if mom were still around. And who knows? Maybe at college things would have been different. Maybe somebody would honestly be attracted to her - wouldn’t mind the scales. It wasn’t inconceivable. College kids were different. They thought different thoughts, dreamed different dreams. Most importantly, they had hope.

Bea closed her eyes and wiped away another crocodile tear. She thought of Mae. She’d be away at college by now too. Even Mae got out. EVEN MAE!

She looked back at the laptop screen, it’s icons still glowing, unclicked. Another roll of thunder passed by as she looked at Mae’s stagnant chat icon. It was still on her Desktop. Why? She hadn’t talked to her since, like, 8th grade. Oh, they’d say “Hi” cordially enough when they’d passed by on the street, but hadn’t said so much as a full sentence to each other for years. But her icon was still there.

She right-clicked on the icon. Create shortcut, Delete, Rename.

She hovered the pointer over Delete for a bit. Then she clicked the next menu item, and typed “Bitch”.

It glowed at her, renamed now, on the screen. She’d really liked Mae, once. She thought they’d be friends forever. Angus was fun, but she always felt like a third wheel these days with Gregg always around since the two had moved in together. Now Mae was off to college, off to a new life, while the highlight of her week was a day off from the Pickaxe.

Silently she removed something from the drawer beside her and switched it on. Then she went to her Bookmarks and opened a website. For a little while, she forgot about her life.

A very, very little while, she cried inwardly as she calmed back down some time later. Too goddamned little. For a minute the thought of drugs passed her mind. She could certainly see the attraction - but she was too poor for that. And too smart. She set her little something on the nightstand. She’d wash it in the morning discreetly. Her door was locked. No worry.

When she’d closed the website down, she looked at the icon again, and then renamed it back to “Mae”.

Then she closed the lid on the laptop and put it away as her breathing returned to normal. Another rumble of thunder could barely be heard. The storm was moving away, but the wind was still whistling around the old statue of Arnold Applebaum outside her window.

“My only stable friend,” Bea thought as she pulled another cigarette out and lit it. Then she looked down at herself again. The meager light from the window left her only in silhouette. In this light, she thought, she didn’t look half bad. If only she had the nice fur all her friends had, she might be more than just a carnival curiosity - the snake girl.

At least the apartment was warm and the window sealed. She left the blanket off and felt herself cool as her wetness evaporated, all the while making little figure 8’s with the cigarette. She caught the eye of Arnold Applebaum staring at her through the window, and blew smoke rings at him.

“My only friend is a peeping Tom,” she laughed to herself. “Does anyone else know you were such a pervert in life, Mr. Applebaum? Watching nubile young ladies in their beds? You should be ashamed of yourself. Why, just for that, I should get blinds!”

She blew another cloud of smoke at the concrete Applebaum, then snuffed out the cigarette before closing her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Mae.”


	2. Request

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Image by Semlgrin - all his this time. I didn't color this.

She was awoken promptly at 8 am by the bells of the church ringing. Mae's mom would be there with pastor Kate and all the good people of Possum Springs. The Church of the First Coalescence. What the hell was that anyway? Probably some play on "Coal" from hundreds of years ago. Probably.

She got up and started getting ready. While in the shower she pondered what would happen if she showed up at the church. Probably nothing. They'd likely welcome her with open arms. She found it increasingly hard to hate people who were so nice, but she was still going to try.

She laced up her boots and looked at herself in the mirror. Yup, that was Beatrice Santello in the mirror. Going to work on her one day off. Such was this gator's life. She noticed another scale loose near the base of her neck. Age stops for no one.

Before leaving for the Pickaxe, she made a hasty breakfast for her dad and herself before disturbing his rest with a knock on his door. The snoring stopped.

"Going in? It's Sunday," he said drowsily.

"Yeah, I know. Nothing better to do."

"I'll clean up the place while you're gone. After the Smelter's game."

"Thanks Dad. Not sure when I'll close up."

"Love you Bea."

"Love you too Dad."

It was a short walk to the Pickaxe, and all was as she'd left it the night before. She once thought people were breaking in and stealing stuff when she'd first started working with her Dad here, but now that she did all the inventory, it was clear nothing like that was happening. Dad just didn't do a very good job of inventory. Maybe there had been some shoplifting, but no actual robbery. She walked in, turned on the lights and sat behind the counter.

Two hours later and no one had come in. Expected really, but what else was there to do? Staying with Dad was too depressing. She had her laptop with her at least.

Then she realized she'd left her 'little something' on the nightstand. Her dad would find it. He probably wouldn't say anything, but it would be embarrassing anyway. Not till after the Smelters game, but still. She'd have to go home before then.

A movement outside caught her eye. Angus and Gregg and Casey. 

"Oh no", she thought. Gregg had spotted her. "Too late now." 

They came inside.

"BEATRICE!" Gregg said too loudly. She winced.

"Hey Bea," said Casey and Angus together.

"What do you want? Need to borrow my car or a ride somewhere?"

"Not this time, Bea," Angus said. "We need you."

Bea cringed. She'd anticipated this might happen.

"Me? For what?"

"The band, Bea. Since Mae's been gone, we've got no bass player," Gregg explained.

"Yeah. And it really sucks without it."

"I was under the impression you didn't like Mae's bass playing actually."

Gregg and Casey looked at Angus.

"Well, she's not good," he said, giving his Honesty Hands-Out gesture.

"You never said that," Casey pointed out, confused.

"She sucks, guys," Angus protested, "but we all suck, so it's better to have a sucky bass than have no bass."

"Why do you care anyway? You don't play out," Bea asked, though she already knew what they meant. She was already digging through her program list to see if she could find the sequencer music program she'd used a couple years ago when Angus had asked if she could help out when Casey had been incarcerated for a week.

Casey made a grandiose gesture. "We play for the _ART_!"

"Yeah Bea! For the _ART_!" Gregg repeated.

Bea frowned at Angus, one eyebrow raised.

" _Please_ Bea?"

"Oh, you know I will. Do you have some recordings or anything I can use to model it by?"

"Just happen to have a tape here," Angus said. He handed Bea a cassette tape. Ancient technology, Bea thought, but she also happened to have an ancient technology tape player. Hell, she had a real phonograph player!

"Does this have Mae in it too, so I know what to program?"

"Some. From earlier this year. We've got some new songs on there too, without her. You can make up whatever you want for those."

"Guys, I'm not a musician. I'll just program 8th note roots, okay?"

"Sure!" Gregg and Angus agreed simultaneously.

"Er..." Casey said dubiously. "Just straight 8th notes?"

Bea ignored him. "Alright, when do you practice next?"

"Um..." Gregg stammered.

"Well..." Angus started.

"Tonight." Casey said.

" _Tonight_? What? You expect me to drop everything and just work on this? I'm not even a musician!"

"Think of the Art!" Angus tried, but she wasn't having it.

"I can help," Casey suggested hopefully. "The bass usually follows the kick drum. I don't know notes, but I sure as hell know it will suck if you just program straight 8th notes all the way!"

Angus looked at her with his pleading eyes. Which she could never see behind his glasses, but she could feel them.

"Okay. I'll do it. But only because I've got absolutely nothing else to do."

"Cool!"

Angus took her hand and shook it. "Welcome to the band, Bea!" 

The others did likewise, and it took a bit of effort to keep from cracking a smile, but she managed.

"So, what's the name of the band?"

The three looked back at her with blank faces.

"We... don't really have a name."

"Oh, come on - we have to at least have a name."

Gregg scratched his head. "Maybe if we combine our initials in some way?"

Bea sarcastically pointed out that their initials were ABCG.

"Ay Bee Cee Gees?"

"Bacgammon?"

"Garbage?"

"Gregg, there's no C in Garbage. Besides, I think it's taken."

"Sea Garbage!" Angus blurted, followed by "WarlockKnife!".

Bea scowled. "Angus... really? 'WarlockKnife'? That's kinda blatant."

"Well... I dunno how to pick band names!"

Casey looked confused. "What's wrong with WarlockKnife?"

Bea looked back at him, disappointed. "WitchDagger? WarlockKnife?"

"Oh. yeah."

"Well never mind," Bea said, incongruously trying to cheer up the group. "It doesn't matter."

"Okay - it's settled then anyway," Angus said happily. "I gotta get back to the Outpost."

"And I left the Snack Falcon open."

Bea's eyes went wide. "Gregg! Tell me you're kidding. You didn't just leave the Falcon unmanned and unlocked!??"

The fox shrugged. "I do it all the time."

Bea made a mental note never to hire Gregg. Not that she needed the reminder.

Angus and Gregg left, leaving Casey and Bea alone.

The awkward silence was deafening. But Bea liked awkward silences.

"So, you wanna listen to the tape?"

"Can't. My tape player's back at my apartment," Bea said. She oddly enjoyed Casey's obvious discomfort. She didn't know him well, but everyone knows something about everyone in Possum Springs.

She let the silence linger, watching Casey's eyes dart around like a cornered animal. It was fun. Finally she relented.

"Oh, come on. Let's go to my place."

"What about the Pickaxe?"

"Supposed to be closed anyway."

"Oh. Okay then. Where do you live?"

"Just up the road in an apartment with my dad. Won't take long. Wait outside while I lock up," Bea suggested, shooing Casey out.

In a few minutes, she emerged. Casey stood up from where he was sitting against the building and Bea realized she hadn't had a cigarette in... well, longer than normal. She pulled one out and lit it.

"Got another?"

Bea eyed Casey sideways, but fished out another and handed it to him. He smiled at her and took the lit cigarette from her mouth and used it to light his own, handing her's back. She considered getting angry with the familiarity, but decided it wasn't worth the energy.

"You smoke?"

"Right now I do," he smiled, puffing but obviously not inhaling.

"Hmm. Well, you got your one loaner from me today. You want more, go buy your own."

"Got it," Casey said as they began the walk back to Bea's place.

"So, is it true what they say about your cousin?"

"I dunno. What have you heard?"

"I hear he died when his meth lab blew up. Is that true?"

"Bea, I don't know what happened to him. Maybe. I know he's dead is all. Not like we hung out together or anything."

"An explosion?"

"Yeah. In his mobile home. Might have been a meth lab. Or might have been a gas leak for all I know. Police aren't talking."

"Hmm... " Bea mused for awhile, puffing. "You do meth?"

Casey stopped. "A lot of questions, Bea. Yeah. I've done meth before. You want some?"

"You're an idiot."

"Well fuck you."

"No, thanks. No, I just wanted to know who I was talking to. Meth head?"

"I'm not a meth head! I've just... experimented."

"Uh huh. When was the last time?"

"Fuck you," Casey said, anger coming over his features. "I don't have to put up with this shit. I'm out."

"Wait," Bea said, grabbing his arm. "I'm sorry. Come on, I didn't mean anything."

Casey's face returned to normal. Mostly.

"I'm not a meth head. I just... hate this town. Lets me get away sorta, you know?"

"I understand," Bea lied. "Just, don't ever do it around me, okay?"

"Beatrice the Pure?"

"No. I just don't need the hassle. Come on, I'm on the third floor. Number 302. I take the stairs. It's faster."

"Okay. You say your dad's there?"

"Yeah. We share the place. Got a problem with that?" Bea asked as they started up the stairs.

"Oh hell no. I live with my mom and dad still."

"You got a job, Casey?"

"Not a real job. I work for my dad weekdays sometimes. But he doesn't pay me. Well, not much anyway. But free room and board I suppose."

"Yeah, I figured. Well, this is it. Don't worry about my dad. He's okay."

Bea opened the door and heard the TV on immediately.

"Hey dad."

"Hey Beebee. Who's your friend?"

"This is Casey. He's a drummer in Angus' band. They want me to play bass."

"Hi Mr. Santello," Casey said, introducing himself.

"Well, welcome Casey," he said, turning back to the TV.

"We'll be playing some music, dad."

"Okay. Close the door then."

Bea nodded to her door at the end of the small hall and Casey followed her in. She put her laptop bag on the floor as Casey sat on the bed - the only seat in the room. Bea closed the door and then stopped. For the first time in her life, she truly understood the word "mortified".

Slowly she turned around, hoping against hope. But it was still there on the table, right beside Casey. He was looking at her, apparently not yet having noticed, but her eyes gave it away. He followed her glances between him and the device on the table. His eyes grew wide as they locked onto it, and her heart sank as she saw the grin start.

She knew she should have got the non-anatomically correct version. At least then she could have pretended it was something else. Too late now. This was gonna be bad.


	3. Beatrice Santello - Busted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original drawing by GreasyMojo. Colored by me.  
> Don't make the assumption the images relate to the chapters. They don't. They're just there for interest. Call it fanservice. :)

In an instant, she considered her options. One was already gone. She could have simply picked it up and put it away nonchalantly. Maybe a little apology, and it would be over. Unfortunately that option was out the window as she felt the blush on her cheeks with each heartbeat. And that blush would belie any attempt at nonchalant dismissal. She was embarrassed as hell, and he would know it.

“Nice!” Casey said. “This yours?”

He reached to pick it up.

Her reaction was instantaneous and feral. She grabbed the dildo with one hand, and grabbed Casey’s hoodie with the other, pulling him to his feet with a strength she shouldn’t actually have. But she could have sworn she held him bodily a couple inches above the floor, though he was no small cat. She’d later attribute it to adrenaline.

“Casey Hartley,” she said as cool-ly as she could, though she could hear her own voice breaking. “I want you to understand that if you even so much as think about this again, I will personally shove this fake plastic penis so far up your ass you’ll feel it tickling your palatine uvula. Do you understand?”

“Jeeze Bea, lighten up!”

Bea grimaced and held him close to her teeth as she snarled in a whisper.

“Do… you… understand?”

“I… don’t know what a uvula is…”

She dropped him back onto the bed.

“Holy shit Bea!”

She put the dildo back in her drawer, and pulled her little tape recorder out from the closet, then fished around in her laptop bag and pulled out the tape she had been given earlier.

“Now, how many songs are on this tape?”

She turned back to Casey and was pleased to find him staring at her with a blank look. She wasn’t sure how seriously a guy like Casey would take her threat, but at least she’d gotten through to him. Even more pleasant, she no longer felt her own blush. It felt good getting that out of her system through violence.

“Um… Bea?"

“Ah-ah-ah!” she said, smiling and holding the tape up warningly. “Don’t even think about that again! How many songs?”

“Oh… Um… 10 songs I think. Well, some of them are just us noodling around really, but about 10 I guess.”

“Okay, we’re not going to get to them all before tonight. But we can get a fair chunk of them basically programmed. We can tweak them after tonight too. You let me know which ones you think are most important. Here, you control the tape player. You know how to work it?”

Casey took it from her and set it on the bed, laying down and pressed the Eject button.

“Sure! About the same as the one I use to record us with.”

“Okay. And I’ll program the bass line into the laptop. Do you know notes?”

“Not really, but I can kinda hum what the bass should be doing.”

“That’ll do. I’ll figure out the key signatures and stuff like that,” Bea said, laying beside him on the single bed. She saw him eye the drawer and sighed.

“Look, Casey. Yeah. It’s mine. Sorry you had to see that. But let’s get over it, okay? It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Means you’re not lesbian,” Casey said under his breath.

“Means I like vibrating plastic. Nothing more. Unless you’re packing vibrating plastic in your pants, you’d better not read anything more into it. Okay, so let’s get to work, right? Just play the first song through so I can get a feel for it…”

The rest of the afternoon passed surprisingly well. Casey said nothing more about the incident, and they actually had gotten six songs programmed and loaded when Bea’s father let them know he was about to make dinner.

Bea stretched and stood up.

“I think that’s it for tonight. We can work on the rest another time.”

“Yeah. I should be getting home for dinner myself.”

“Think it’ll be okay?”

Casey leaned in close. “To be honest Bea, it’s better than Mae ever played.”

Bea snorted, then covered her mouth. “Well, we’ll see tonight. What time does everyone get together?”

“About 8. You know where, right?”

“Party Barn?”

“Yup. See you tonight Bea.”

“Casey… I don’t know you very well, but I know how guys are. Please. Seriously. Can you not tell anyone? Can you do that for me?”

“It would make for a good joke in the band, Bea, but if it bothers you that much, I won’t tell a soul. You’re doing us a favor here, I know. It never happened.”

“Thanks, Casey. And… sorry about that meth head bit.”

He shrugged and she walked him to the front door.

“See you later Casey,” she said.

“Later Bea.”

She closed the door and sighed. Her dad was boiling something on the stove. “How long dad?”

“About a half hour yet Beebee.”

“Okay, thanks.”

She went back to her room and turned the laptop on, immediately opening Angus’ icon.

“You there?” she typed.

“Yeah. Holding down the Outpost. You get the bass parts done?”

“About 6 of em. Listen, Angus - you know you’re the best friend I have, right?”

“Um… yeeeeeah?”

“And you came to me to tell me about your feelings for Gregg back then. You trusted me with that. I’ve never forgotten it. Angus, I need to trust you with something… intimate.”

“Absolutely Bea. Anything.”

“Look, I know how you guys can be. Today Casey saw something he shouldn’t have. He promised me he wouldn’t say anything…”

“?”

“Angus, I need to know what I’ve gotten myself into here. I don’t know Casey. If this story is going to get around Possum Springs… well, I don’t know what I’ll do. But at least I can be prepared for it.”

The cursor blinked for a long time before Angus replied.

“What did he see? Porn on your laptop or something?”

“Dildo.”

“You have a dildo?”

“Angus, I don’t need humor right now. If he says something about it, don’t tell him to stop or anything - I’m not asking that. I’m just asking you to tell me if he does, so I’ll know what to expect.”

“You have a dildo?”

“Dammit Angus. Yes. I have a dildo. Alright? Big fat honking dildo.”

“Gator dildo?”

“Bear dildo.”

“Can I borrow it?”

“Fuck you Angus.”

“Just kidding. Yeah, I understand. No sweat.”

“And you’ll tell me if he says anything?”

“I will. But Bea… he won’t say anything.”

“You don’t think so?”

“He can be a bit wild for sure, Bea. But he has his own morality. I don’t think he’d say anything to anyone. Not when you’re joining our band. You’re one of us now.”

“Oh joy.”

“Seriously, I don’t think he will. But if he does, I promise I’ll tell you.”

“Okay, thanks Angus.”

“NP”

She waited to see if he was going to make another snarky comment. It would have been too much to expect him to avoid a joke altogether, but he didn’t send anything else. He understood her seriousness. Considering his - and Gregg’s - relationship in a small town, he would probably understand better than anyone else she knew. But still, she needed to know for sure. Otherwise she would hear paranoid hidden dildo jokes in every casual conversation.

Gators weren’t that common in Possum Springs, and the other mammals would probably believe any bizarre tales of their reptilian sexual escapades that could be dreamed up. She sincerely hoped Angus was right.

She pulled the source of all her current consternation out of the drawer and smiled. She’d told the truth earlier, though in such a way he’d never catch on. It was modelled after a bear person’s penis. Angus didn’t need to know that detail though. That little heartbreak was over a long time ago. She very much doubted Casey would have noticed that detail, so that was one other thing she didn’t have to consider.

She took it to the bathroom to wash it while her dad was in the kitchen, then she slipped it back into her drawer and lay on the bed. For some reason, she was smiling. She even started giggling.

“Jeeze, what the hell is wrong with you, girl?” she said to herself. But for some reason she felt better than she had for a long time.

“Dinner’s ready!”


	4. Beatrice Santello - Mediocre

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Image by OokamiKemono

  
  
“So, what do you think of our songs?” Angus asked as Bea squeezed through the door of the abandoned Party Barn.

“Angus, I’ve heard most of them before. Don’t you remember? I sequenced the drum parts when Casey was in jail.”

“Oh yeah. Well… what do you think of them anyway?”

“They suck. But I’m not really into the genre so what do I know. Where is Casey anyway?”

Gregg looked up from tuning his guitar. “Oh, he said he’d be a little late. Some chore he had to do.”

The door squeaked and Germ walked in.

“Hi Germ,” all three said.

“Hi guys. Hi Bea. Are you playing with the band tonight?”

“Well… sorta. I programmed some bass lines to take Mae’s place.”

“So, are you part of the band now?”

“Well…” she started, but Gregg interrupted.

“She is! We’re a foursome again! Woohoo!”

“I guess so,” she concluded. “Say Germ, why aren’t you in the band?”

“I am. I’m the 5th member. The audience!”

“Say, that’s kinda deep.”

“I could be your roadie if you ever played anywhere.”

“Yeah,” Gregg said, strumming a chord. “That’s better. You’re our roadie.”

“Cool,” Germ said with enthusiasm.

The door squeaked again and Casey came in, skateboard in hand.

“Sorry guys. Had to clean up my room.”

“No problem Case. We’re all set up.”

“Hi Bea. You ready?”

“Sure. What song do you wanna start with?”

“PUMPKIN HEAD GUY!” shouted Gregg.

“We always start with Pumpkin Head Guy Bea,” Angus added more soberly. Did you do that one?”

“Yup. Pulling it up now… Why do you always do that one first?”

Gregg waved his hands excitedly, “Because I made it up!”

“I couldn’t have guessed,” Bea said, trying to not overdo the sarcasm.

“Yeah. Casey writes most of the songs, but we each have one of our own too. We’re a democracy!”

“Really! Casey writes most of them? I thought you didn’t know notes.”

“Don’t,” Casey said as he sat behind his drum kit and did a few drum rolls. “But I can hum a melody.”

“He’s like that famous guy - didn’t go to school, but he knows music naturally,” Angus said proudly.

“Oh, I just make stuff up sometimes. Come on, let’s do this… 1. 2. 3. 4!”

The other three started off but Bea just shook her head. The noise stopped after a little bit.

“What’s wrong Bea?”

“I have to start the songs off. Otherwise the bass won’t be on-beat. I put a click track in though.”

“Oh. Well. Okay. But you have to say ‘1 2 3 4’. It’s tradition,” Gregg pointed out.

“Gonna be weird not counting stuff out,” Casey protested, “But let’s try it.”

Bea pressed a key and shouted “One. Two. Three. FOUR!” along with the clicks.

And the melodious lines of Pumpkin Head Guy began to flow. Even Angus seemed to be into it, holding the mic rather than just standing behind it. Not exactly the World’s Greatest Frontman, but his voice wasn’t all that bad. Bea even found herself tapping her foot a little.

When it was over, Germ clapped.

“Sounded good guys!”

“It did! Good bass Bea!” Gregg nodded to her enthusiastically.

“Could use a little tweaking. But… what should I do while the song is playing? I don’t really have anything to do once the song starts.”

“Tambourine?”

Bea shrugged, “Okay. Got one?”

“No,” Angus stated flatly.

“You could dance or something. You know, be our Hot Chick,” Casey suggested.

“I would rather die.”

“Okay, maybe not.”

“Well, you’ll think of something,” Angus assured her. “Let’s move on. What’s next?”

Of course, it didn’t take long before they’d exhausted all six songs that Bea had programmed, so she sat with Germ and her laptop while the band did the other songs they had. She’d gotten one more programmed before the practice was officially declared over and the band started to break up.

“Until next week?” Bea asked.

“Um… We usually practice Wednesdays too.”

“Sorry. Gotta work Wednesday nights.”

“Well, I can get the files from you,” Angus offered, “and play em on my laptop.”

Bea shrugged. “Okay. I’ll drop em by tomorrow at lunch.”

The night had come on in full when she had packed up her laptop bag and started back to her place. It was, she decided, actually pretty fun.

“Hey, wait Bea,” she heard a voice call behind her.

Casey. She was afraid this might happen. Chasin’ that horny gator tail.

“Hey Casey,” she said without emotion.

“Hey Bea. Look, I don’t wanna go home yet. If I wait till after midnight, the parental units will be asleep. You wanna stay out with me?”

“Casey…” Bea started.

“Not like a date or anything. Just to hang out.”

Bea thought about it. It would be a very bad idea to start up some relationship with this probable meth-head. The last thing she needed right now was to have to worry about that. But he seemed to have held his tongue about what happened earlier. Still, he was probably thinking she was some sort of nymphomaniac now. He probably had delusions of getting in her pants. Definitely best to nip that right in the bud.

“Okay,” she said, completely disregarding everything that had just gone through her mind.

“I’ve got a half bottle of whiskey hidden down by the bridge. Wanna share it with me?”

“Casey. Don’t push it.”

“Sorry.”

“Did you really write those songs?”

“Mostly. Did you like em?”

“Some had potential anyway. Some, not so much. Space Dragon?”

“Mae wrote most of that.”

“Sounds like Mae.”

She pulled a cigarette out, then offered one to Casey.

“Na. They make me kinda nauseous really. Besides, I already had my loaner for today.”

She shrugged and put it back in the pack, then lit hers.

“Where’d you get the whiskey?” she asked on the exhale.

“You really want to know?”

“Kinda. Bought, Borrowed or Stolen?”

“Stolen.”

“Figured. From your parents?”

Casey shook his head. “Liquor store. I got some juice for my dad and pocketed the bottle while I was in there.”

“Casey. I’m not into that sort of thing. You know that, right?”

“I guess. Beatrice the Pure.”

They walked on in silence for a while, passing her apartment. She realized they were heading to the bridge.

“Lemme try some of your stolen whiskey, Casey.”

He smiled, and they turned off the road, climbing down underneath.

“This is stupid,” she thought to herself. “And a mistake.” But Casey did try to help her down. She scowled at him and refused the help, but really she did appreciate the thought anyway - even if she wouldn’t show it.

A half-hour later found Bea and Casey slightly intoxicated, listening to the cars go by above them.

“Pickup truck,” Casey said.

“Casey, half the vehicles in Possum Springs are pickup trucks. This is a stupid game. We can’t even see if we’re right or not.”

“White pickup truck. Going out of town. Probably heading east, to the next state.”

“That’s a lot of guessing based on the sound of wheels on pavement,” Bea said, but she accepted the bottle.”

“It’s not guessing. It’s something else. Wish fulfillment.”

Bea turned to look at Casey’s silhouette in the dark. “Projection. What’s so bad about Possum Springs anyway?”

“Jeeze Bea. You don’t feel the same? It’s a dead end. Nowhere to go, nothing to do. You know those old guys that hang out at Miller’s?”

“Sure. Tom and Pat. Tom buys gardening supplies from me. What about em?”

“Bea, they were us thirty years ago.”

“They weren’t me.”

“Might as well have been. Bea, if I don’t get the hell out of here, I’m going to end up with a pot belly and talking about the goddamned Smelters too! I don’t want that future!”

Bea “Mmmm”ed in agreement.

“It’s like my worst nightmare, Bea.”

“You’ll end up in prison before that.”

“Probably. Would you believe me if I told you I’d prefer that?”

“Yeah,” Bea said, drawing on her cigarette. The glow lit Casey’s face and hers, but he was staring at the black underside of the bridge above them. He seemed to be looking at something far away.

“What would you rather do?”

“Anything. I’d rather do absolutely anything than grow old here.”

There was silence for a while, but it was no longer uncomfortable. Bea was bothered by how much she could sympathize with the meth-head.

“Do you want to live your life in Possum Springs Bea?”

“I don’t mind living here. I just don’t want to die here. I can’t even get buried beside my mom.”

“Your mom’s dead?”

“Yeah. Cancer.”

“Sorry.”

“Are you really?” she said, a hardness in her voice now. She heard it coming out of her own mouth, but couldn’t stop if if she’d wanted to.

“Well. I mean…”

“I know what you meant. But that sort of platitude just irks me. You didn’t know her. Everybody says they’re sorry. What does that even mean when you don’t even know the person?”

“Jeeze, Bea. You’re an angry drunk.”

“Not drunk,” Bea said, but took another swig anyway. “...yet. Sorry Casey, I’m a bitch. I know it. Everyone knows it. I can’t help it. I get pissed off too easy. Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay, I won’t. Now give me that bottle back before you drink it all, bitch!”

Bea smiled and handed the bottle back. “That’s better.”

She heard Casey take another long pull on the bottle, while she thought of an empty grave beside her mother’s. That was for dad. He’d bought it at the same time he’d bought his wife’s grave. There was no third plot. The graves beside her mom’s and her dad’s future plot were already occupied. There was no place for her.

“I don’t even care where,” Casey said, shaking Bea out of her morbid thoughts. “I just want to go anywhere else.”

“I just want to die anywhere else.”

Casey turned to look at her. She drew a big drag on her cigarette and saw his eyes looking directly at her. It bothered her. She dashed the cigarette out on the concrete.

“I just want to die anywhere else too,” he said.

Bea was suddenly uncomfortable here. Casey wasn’t so bad, but suddenly she was keenly aware of his nearness. It hadn’t bothered her before. At least he hadn’t tried to hold her hand or anything.

“I think it’s time to go home, Casey,” she said abruptly.

“You go ahead. I’m going to hang out here for a while.”

“You gonna try and skate here in the dark? Nobody will hear you scream if you break your ankle down here.”

“Maybe. Or work on something in my head. See you later Bea.”

“Later basket-Case.”


	5. Beatrice Santello - Receiving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bea receives something she's expecting, and something she's not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A long one this time. I am taking my time here. If you're anything like me, you love to spend more time in Possum Springs, so I'm not rushing anything.  
> Image by Artsy. Nice animation.

Mondays were big days at the Ol' Pickaxe, so even though she felt a little hungover from Casey's whiskey, Bea awoke promptly, shook off the haze and started filling the tub at 6am. No one used bathtubs anymore. Everyone used showers. Yet the old apartment that Bea and her father shared still had an old claw-footed tub. Years ago it had been retrofitted with a hand-held rubber shower attachment on the spout, but she rarely bothered with it.

She shut off the water and climbed in slowly, easing herself past the shudder-point. Then she relaxed. This was the most peaceful part of her day. She never overdid it though. 5 minutes of absolute stillness. She would not allow her mind to focus on anything for these 5 minutes. No stress, no worry. Whatever problems she had, somehow life had granted her another peaceful time in the tub, so her problems couldn't be that bad.

The 5 minutes was gone in a flash, but she still appreciated it. But now she was back to Bea's life, scrubbing, drying, dressing. A quick breakfast and out the door.

And then she turned around and went back inside to rummage up a jacket and a scarf. It was damn cold out this morning!

When she got to the Pickaxe, she wasn't alone. Germ was sitting at the door.

"First delivery is out back," he said, not looking up from the coffee cup he held.

"Am I late?"

"Na," said the odd bird, "I guess me and the delivery guy are just early."

She unlocked the door, and stepped inside, frankly glad to be out of the wind. Her breath came in clouds even inside though. Germ was looking at her quizzically.

"Go ahead, turn on the heat. Just to 65 mind you, and we'll turn it back off once we get warmed up."

Germ nodded and headed to the back room where the thermostat was while Bea turned on the POS system and ran the weekly log printout. Once it had started printing, she went back to the warehouse and opened the door for the delivery truck.

She recognized the driver. It was her wood supplier, Mr. Hargrove. The truck, however, she did not recognize. It was huge and stacked with lumber. She smiled though. This load for the new house was going to earn her a decent profit for a change.

"All that for me?"

"That's what the order says, Bea. The new Grant house?"

"Yeah. I know the general contractor. I don't suppose you brought any help to get this unloaded?"

"Just me and you, Bea. But no problem. I've got all morning."

"Thanks Mr. Hargrove. Germ's here too."

As if on cue, Germ stepped into the cold warehouse from the front.

"Hey Germ, put the 'ring the bell' sign up and lock the front door. We're going to be unloading for a while."

An hour later the truck was about three-quarters unloaded but all three were exhausted and sitting on the stoop at the warehouse door. The temperature had gone up a little, enough so that the wind felt good now.

The bell rang. Someone was at the front door. Bea got up.

"Ten minutes, then we knock out the rest."

Germ and Mr. Hargrove nodded their assent. As Bea opened the door to the storefront from the warehouse, she glanced at the clock. A little after nine. She needed to get the unloading done quickly, before the customers really started coming in earnest. 

A glance at the door and her heart sank. It wasn't a regular. It was Casey. 

"God dammit," she thought as she crossed the distance to the door. "I really, really don't need this now."

"Hey Casey," she said as she opened the door. "What's up?"

"Oh, not much. Just thought I would drop in."

"Sorry Case, not a good time. Unloading lumber out back."

"I can help!"

"No, you can't. I can't pay you, and if you hurt yourself my workmen's comp will go ballistic."

"What about Germ? He's helping, and he's not on your payroll."

Internally she smiled. This Casey Hartley wasn't as dumb as he looked.

"Okay. I wouldn't normally, but I could use the help. Don't fuck up, okay? It's just wood. No pay though. Is that alright?"

"Sure."

She locked the door behind him and introduced him to Mr. Hargrove. It turned out the work did go a lot faster though, with four pairs of hands. It was done before the front door bell went off again.

“Germ, go open up while I finish the paperwork out here. I'll be done in just a minute.”

Unlike her father, Bea always did a full inventory on new deliveries and, as she'd practically expected, the shipment was a little short. Not much. Nothing anyone would get too upset over. But it wasn't unusual. 

Mr. Hargrove didn't give her any shit though. He adjusted the invoice properly and just protested that he hadn't been the one to load it. Bea gave him a grimace, but thanked him for the help unloading. After all, it wasn't really his job to unload the delivery and he probably really hadn't loaded it.

She shut the warehouse door and entered the shop to see Germ was waiting on a customer. Casey was nowhere to be found. Germ explained that Casey had left shortly after they'd gone back into the storefront. That bothered Bea a little bit. What was he playing at?

"Oh, it's surely my imagination," she decided. "He's just being a friend." Still, it wasn't typical for her to make new friends. But at least he wasn't coming on to her seriously. Maybe it was just that after all.

At lunch, she flipped the Open sign to the Closed clock, indicating she'd be back at 1pm, and paid Germ in cash.

"You won't need me this afternoon then?"

"Na. I called the general contractor but he's going to be bringing some guys along to pick up the lumber tomorrow. I've got it for the rest of the day, but there's a shipment of nails and such tomorrow, so if you want..."

Germ took the cash without counting it. 

"I'll be here. Thanks Bea!" he said, and left while she got her bag and verified the files for the band were still there. Then she left for the Video Outpost II.

The day had gotten at least reasonably warm as she went up the street. She saw Casey down an alley and waved at him, but he was with someone else and didn't notice her.

"Hi Bea," Angus said, looking up from the counter.

"Hey Angus. I exported those files as .mp3s for you to use on Wednesday. So... no jokes from Casey?"

"Nope. Nothing. I told you he would be cool."

"How's things with you?"

Angus turned a bit moody. "Not too bad. Gregg and I are having a bit of a fight. Nothing serious though. To be honest, I think he misses Mae more than he lets on. I'm... not as fun-loving as she was, he says."

"Crimes?"

"Crimes."

"Well, I'm no psychologist. But I'm sure you'll work it out."

"No doubt. Say, if you want anything, that offer for a free video still stands! Sorry Bea, I know I haven't been very sociable lately with you."

"Don't worry about it. You've got a relationship to sail. As for the video, one day I might have time or interest, but these days..."

"The offer stands. We'll chat tonight. Which reminds me, where were you last night? Got no response."

"Oh. Sorry. I had other stuff to do and I just crashed," Bea said as she headed towards the door. "TTYL."

"TTYL!"

As she headed back to the Pickaxe, it began to bother her that she had intentionally misled Angus. But she didn't want him to start thinking that Casey and her were a thing either. She did glance down the alley where she'd seen Casey, but he was gone.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, and she closed the shop shortly after 7 as the sun was going dow, but no one was waiting for her and the rest of the evening passed uneventfully as well.

"So," her dad said as they sat down to a late dinner of hamburger helper. 

"So?"

"You wanna tell me about Casey? You got home pretty late last night."

"No, I don't. And there's nothing to tell anyway. He's a pretty good guy though, all things considered."

"You ever think about dating Bea?"

Bea glared at her father.

"Alright. Not my business. How's things at the Pickaxe?"

"Got the lumber shipment in. It was short again."

Her father paused. "You're a good kid, Bea. I wonder how much I was fleeced for over the years?"

"Doesn't matter anymore. They'll be shipping the shortage along with next weeks' delivery. We've got plenty extra for the contractor."

"I could come in tomorrow, if you want."

Bea looked at him for a long time, but her father kept eating, ignoring her stare. They spoke no more on the subject. 

After dinner, Bea washed the dishes while her father dried and put them away and spoke of nothing of consequence until they were done.

"Dad, I don't think you're ready for it yet. You know what happened last time. You'll start thinking she's back here in bed and needing her medicine again."

Her dad looked at her with a mournful gaze. 

"Maybe next month, Dad. Okay?"

"Okay Beebee. You know best."

"No I don't. I don't know shit, Dad. I'm twenty years old and I don't know shit and I don't know what I'm doing and I can't get us out from under this debt no matter what I do. I need you, Dad. I need you back, but you're not coming back. I'm barely keeping the lights turned on and I need help. This money from the new house will keep us going for another month, but if nothing big comes in during that time, something's gotta go and I don't know what's left to pare down. Our expenses are cut to the bone but we're still not making enough, and I can't advertise to get new business because we don't have any money and our credit's shot to hell...."

She said nothing and just nodded. Then she went to her room, shut the door, and cried silently. Finally, when it was over, she turned on her laptop. There was a new message there from Angus.

"Hey Bea. Casey came by and asked for your IM ID. I told him I'd ask you."

Bea began typing.

"You there?"

"Hi Bea. Did you get my message?"

"Yeah. No problem. You can give it to him. Actually, why don't you give me his, and I'll add him."

"227390"

"Really?  
That was available? I didn't know you could pick your own ID number!"

The cursor blinked for an unusually long time and Bea realized Angus hadn't connected it yet.

"CASEY-0. Why hadn't I noticed that?"

"Because I'm smarter than you."

"Seems so. But I knew you could pick your own ID."

"Okay. We're even. How's you and Gregg?"

"Back to normal. In fact, I need to get going. Gregg's feeling frisky tonight."

"Make-up sex?"

"Yeah. Gnight Bea."

"Gnight Angus."

"Wait! Angus? You still there?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm really happy you and Gregg are getting along again."

"Thanks Bea."

She closed Angus' icon and opened the Contacts section and started a New Contact with Casey's ID. She requested permission, but no reply came through, so she shut off the laptop, pulled on her shift and took her clothes to the laundry to wash them. Her dad had gone to bed so she went back, locked the door, opened the window blinds and lit a cigarette. Mr. Applebaum was there to greet her, and she blew him a smoke ring.

An hour later, she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep. But sometime later she was awakened by a tap at the window. It was followed by another. She looked out and saw a dark form down below , throwing pebbles. Probably Casey. But the window was sealed. She couldn't open it if she'd wanted to. She turned on the light and motioned towards the door, no longer able to see anything from the glare. Then she crept out and downstairs as quietly as she could and opened the door.

The wind whipped her thin shift alarmingly as she saw the figure standing outside the door.

"Casey, what the hell are you doing here at this time of night?"

"Can I come in? It's cold out here."

"Like I don't know that?! Come on in."

"Thanks Bea. They kicked me out."

"Shhh. Can't talk here. Come on up."

She led the way up the stairs and opened the door as quietly as she could. Frankly, if she knew her dad, he wouldn't have any problem with her bringing a guy up to her room at her age. But she really didn't want to have to explain it. She closed her bedroom door behind Casey and locked it, not turning on the light. The light from the open window was enough.

Casey began to tell the story of how his parents had kicked him out of their house in whispered tones, but she wasn't really paying much attention beyond the paraphenalia bit. Instead, she was considering what the hell she was doing with this near-stranger in her room at God-Knows-What hour of the night. The problem was, she knew exactly what she was doing - and it scared her a little. She lit a cigarette.

"Casey, you're an asshole. Do you know that?"

In the gloom, she saw him nod his furry head. She resisted an urge to stroke his ear.

"In the morning I expect you to go back there, get rid of all the bullshit that got you in trouble in the first place, then you apologize to them and ask them if you can come back."

"But Bea! I..."

"No, Casey. It's their house. They found your shit, and they won't have it. When you have your own place, you can do whatever you want. But you're living in their house, and it's their rules. You can do that, or find your own way in the world. Are you ready to do that yet?"

"I could just leave. Hop on a train and go. No one would miss me."

"Why don't you then?"

A long silence followed. Bea pulled a long draw on the cigarette and watched as the end glowed and dimmed before exhaling.

"I'm not ready yet. I've got... unfinished business."

"Then do what I told you. When you're ready, go. Till then, you will do what they ask of you. Casey, your parents are strict, but from what you've told me, they still care about you. They're trying to get you away from the drugs. What they don't understand is that nobody can do that but you, and you don't want to."

"I know me, Bea. I'll just do it somewhere else."

Bea shrugged and snuffed out the cigarette. "You won't be doing it at their house. That's enough at this point, I think."

Casey nodded. "What about tonight?"

In response, Bea tossed the blanket and pillow off her bed and onto the floor.

"The sheet's enough for me. Good night basket-Case."

"Thanks Bea," Casey said.

"Shut up, idiot."

Bea got under her sheet and turned away from Casey as she heard him get undressed quietly. And then the creaking started. The floor joists of the old apartment were terrible, and every time Casey moved, the noise would wake her back up. An hour passed and she wasn't even close to being able to sleep.

"Casey," she said quietly, knowing full well he was still awake.

"Yeah?"

"Get your ass up here."

She felt him crawl under the sheet beside her, felt his arm against her back. The bed was a twin - not possible for two to sleep on without touching. She felt his hand touch her shoulder.

"No," was all she said, and it disappeared. She was satisfied. Actually, she rather liked the feel of another person beside her. His breathing indicated he was wide awake, but she didn't mind that. He didn't have to get up at 6am. She did. She felt herself drifting off at last.

She turned over and put her arm across his chest. Both realizing what she was doing, but also not caring. He held her arm to him and she felt his breathing slow as well. Then she went to sleep. Though she was disturbed to wakefulness a couple of times during the night, it wasn't bad and she got back to sleep again. He never tried anything untoward.

Finally her eyes opened at 5:58 am. Casey was still sleeping soundly, and she realized she had her head upon his chest. It felt good. The steady rise and fall felt comforting. But she had to get up. She tried to climb over him without disturbing him, but it didn't really work and his  
bleary eyes opened.

"Morning Bea," he croaked.

She looked back at him. "Morning Casey. You can stay as long as you like. I gotta go into the Pickaxe."

He yawned and she noticed a quite prominent bulge under the blanket, but she didn't comment.

"Na, I'm up. Mind if I nap at the Pickaxe a little this morning?"

"No problem. I'm off to take a bath. Be back in about 20 minutes."

"I... kinda gotta go."

"Oh jeeze. Come on then. Be quiet!"

She led him to the bathroom and started the bath.

"Go ahead. I won't look."

The sound of the running water masked any noise Casey made.

"Okay, now get back to my room. Back in a few."

She watched Casey retreat to her room in his underwear and smiled. "Not a bad looking cat, really," she mused. Then she got in the bath and started her 5 minute relaxation. For the first time in as long as she could remember, it didn't work. She could not clear her mind and she knew why.


	6. Beatrice Santello - Friendzone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bea and Casey's relationship stuffs continue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, not sure who the artist is for this image. But it's cute.

Germ wasn’t waiting on her when Bea and Casey got to the store, so she was able to smuggle him into the back room without incident. She wasn’t the type to be embarrassed at such things, but she did appreciate not having to explain - at least not first thing in the morning.

“There’s a heavy blanket behind those boxes, and the bathroom is on this side,” she said, indicating a cubby Germ sometimes used during late night deliveries, as Casey made a bit of a nest for himself.

“Thanks again Bea. I’ll see myself out after I get a little sleep.”

“See that you do. I’m not putting you up again,” she scowled, closing the door behind her.

Inwardly, Bea was anticipating having to drag herself through the morning as her own lack of sleep caught up with her. She turned on the coffee machine and the thermostat, but was surprised when no significant fatigue showed up. In fact, though she’d not gotten much sleep either, she actually felt pretty good.

Germ showed up later in the morning, and shortly after that the contractor arrived to pick up the lumber and hardware for the build. True to his word, he’d brought along workers to load the wood, and Bea and Germ were left to manage the work. Though technically they could have just left the contractor and his men to load the truck, she wasn’t too comfortable with a lot of men she couldn’t vouch for in her warehouse. But within the hour they’d gotten all their supplies and Bea had a signed inventory from the contractor along with a rather uncomfortably large check.

She’d practically forgot about Casey when he walked out of the back room just before noon. She had a decent group of customers in line by that time, and she waved back at him as he left the store.

“Hey Germ?”

“Yeah?”

“Think you can handle the shop while I go to the bank?”

“Sure Bea. See you later!”

Bea patted her employee on the back, literally. “Thanks Germ.’

She grabbed her bag and slipped out of the store.

“Hey Case!” she called ahead.

He stopped and waited for her to catch up.

“Hey Bea,” he said. 

She noticed he must have washed in the sink. He smelled of her cheap liquid soap.

“Going home?”

“Yeah. It’s not going to be fun.”

“You’ll be okay. You want to do lunch first? My treat. It’ll be my payment for yesterday.”

“Sure! Where?”

“Come on, let’s take my car. We’ll go out to the Interstate. I gotta drop by the bank first.”

“Thanks again Bea.”

“Don’t make a big deal about it. Come on, my car’s around back.”

On the way, Bea pointed out the new house being erected at the edge of town.

“That’s the Grant house. Where all that lumber is going.”

“Holy shit, that’s gonna be huge! Who’s buying that.”

“General manager of the Ham Panther.”

“Damn, he must be making some bank!”

“Yeah. I’m lucky to have gotten the bid for it. I think my friend pulled a few strings, plus I gather he wants to keep good relations with Possum Springs. I feel like I’m being used as a pawn by the Establishment, but what am I gonna do? Turn down the bid?”

“Careful Bea. Pretty soon you might BECOME the establishment!”

“Fat chance,” She replied as she pulled into the bank parking lot. “ Anyway, I gotta stop in here and deposit a check. Be right back.”

A few minutes later she was back. Her radio station had been changed, but she decided to let it slide.

“How about a sub sandwich?” she suggested.

“Sounds fine by me.”

They drove out to a gasoline station/sub shop by the Interstate.

“So what do you do for fun, Bea?” Casey asked as they got their food and sat at a booth by the window.

“I don’t have fun, Casey. You might as well accept that. My life is the Pickaxe.”

“Surely you must do SOMETHING else?”

“Well, I have a friend in College Town that invites me to parties sometimes. That’s kinda fun.”

“College brats? A bunch of privileged, pretentious assholes if you ask me.”

Bea tried to calm her instantly rising anger.

“Some are,” she said, uncharacteristically not blowing up. “But some are really good people, with really good ideas Casey. Don’t lump them all in together, okay? You don’t know them.”

“Hmpf. If you say so Bea.”

“Yeah, I do say so. Look, just because someone’s smart enough and ‘privileged’ enough to go to college doesn’t necessarily mean they’re assholes. And a lot of those ‘privileged college brats’ are working their asses off trying to pay for school too. There are plenty of poor, homeless assholes too you know. “

“Like me?”

“You’re not homeless, Casey.”

“No. Just an asshole. Sorry Bea. You’re right. I don’t know them. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, you shouldn’t have. But you are an asshole.”

“Thanks.”

“Come on, let’s get back to town. We can finish on the way,” Bea said, gathering her food.

Casey followed, looking downcast.

“Bea… I’m really sorry.”

“I know, Casey. We really don’t know each other that well yet. I have a temper on certain subjects, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“Yeah, I noticed.”

“Look, Casey. I like you. You probably know that by now. But this thing… whatever it is we are doing. I don’t think it’s going to work.”

Bea saw Casey nod from the corner of her eye as she drove back to Possum Springs.

“But, I do like hanging out with you. And, to be honest, I really do need a friend.”

“Me too. Friends is okay.”

“Yeah. Who knows what tomorrow brings? But friends is enough for today, right?”

“It’s plenty. More than I had yesterday.”

“I’ll take you back to your house. You ready to face your parents?”

“Yeah. Drop me off at the end of the block though. I’ll walk from there.”

“Okay.”

They drove in silence a few minutes before Bea spoke up again.

“Casey. That ‘unfinished business’...”

“Yeah?”

“It’s me, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought so. Casey, don’t hang your life on me. I’m not leaving Possum Springs anytime soon. You… well…”

“I’ll do what I want, Bea. I may hate this town, but I don’t hate everyone in it.”

Bea sighed. “I know.”

She pulled to the side of the road out of sight of Casey’s house.

“Casey? Look… if things go bad over there,” she said as he climbed out. “You… well… drop by again. I don’t mind.”

“You sure? I’ll probably take you up on that… if things don’t work out.”

“Yeah. I think I am. As a friend. At least for now. See you later basket Case.”

“See you later Bea.”

She watched him as she turned around and drove back to the Pickaxe. He was looking towards his house, as if summoning up the courage to face his parents.

“What the fuck are you doing, Beatrice Santello?” she said aloud. “This will never work, and you know damn well it won’t! You’re just going to end up fucking up your friends too.”

She felt tears welling up in her eyes, and she brushed them aside angrily. Fucking wimpy ass gator-girl.

“I just… need a friend is all,” she answered herself. 

She stayed parked behind the Pickaxe for a long time before she got herself together enough to face the rest of the day.

*****************************

She was surprised when Casey dropped back in in the late afternoon.

“Hey Casey. What’s up? How’d it go?”

“It’s okay. Ultimatum from the parental units of course, but they let me back in.”

“Good. Whatcha doing back here?”

“Oh, I just left my wallet in the back room. I’ll go get it.”

Shortly he returned, waving his wallet.

“See you later Bea,” he said. But something about his demeanor seemed distant.

“Casey?”

“Yeah?” he replied, stopping at the door. She noticed he wasn’t looking at her.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, a touch of anger in his voice. “I’m okay. Just… stuff.”

“Well, alright… Casey, if you just want to talk sometime…”

“Thanks. Later Bea,” he said abruptly and left the Pickaxe. She watched him cross the street and head back up the road. He didn’t look back.

“What’s all that about?” came the voice of Germ.

“Oh. Nothing. He’s got some family issues. I thought he got them worked out, but… maybe not.”

“Ah. Don’t we all?”

“That’s a fact. You about done with the restocking?”

“Yeah. I just finished.”

“Well, hold on. I’ll get your pay for today.”

********************************

Bea didn’t see Casey again for a couple of days. Germ reported that he had been to the practice on Wednesday night though, and seemed okay. Even upbeat! He had a new song they were working on, but otherwise it seemed to be normal old Casey to him.

“Well, that’s good,” Bea said, though secretly she couldn’t help being a little disappointed that he hadn’t been to see her. She decided she would message him that night.

After she’d gotten back from the Pickaxe and had finished dinner and cleaned up with her dad, she retired to her room and turned on the laptop.

“Casey? You there?” she sent to his icon.

No reply.

Instead she chatted with Angus for a while about nothing in particular when Casey’s icon began flashing.

“Gotta go, Angus. TTYL”

“TTYL”

She opened up Casey’s icon.

“Hi Bea. You still there?”

“I’m here.”

“Sorry, I’m not on my computer much. What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing really. You doing okay?”

“Yeah, I got rid of all the shit Mom was pissed off about.”

“Good. You still using?”

“No. At least, not since Sunday. Which reminds me. I have a new song, but I need a bass line for it. If I send it to you, think you can come up with something by this Sunday?”

“I’m not very good at coming up with my own stuff, Casey, but I’ll give it a shot.”

“The file’s just instrumentals. I’m still working out the lyrics.”

“Well, send it on over.”

“Coming now…”

The download icon flashed up and she approved and saved the file. The filename was “forbea.mp3”

“Got it. I’ll work on it tonight.”

“Thanks Bea. I’ll see you Sunday night if not before.”

She contemplated if she should send the next line she’d typed.

“Casey, are you mad at me or something?”

Finally, she deleted it and closed the connection. Just because he hadn’t seen her in a couple of days… Well, she HAD friendzoned him, after all. That’s what she wanted, right?

She asked Mr. Applebaum, but he just stared at her.

“Well you’re no help,” she said to the concrete statue with mock anger.

She looked at the pack of cigarettes. Then she looked at the drawer. But instead she just turned off her laptop and went to sleep.


	7. Beatrice Santello - The Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bea Santello, Goth Gator, Cynic Extraordinaire and Anarchist finds a new emotion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Image by Kompy

The next day for Bea passed relatively uneventfully until after dinner, when she finally opened the file from Casey.

What she heard didn’t sound much like any of the music she’d heard before by the band. It seemed to have a soul. It spoke to her, even without lyrics. The rest of the night she spent trying her best to create a bass line that would work well and yet have a voice of it’s own to add to it. When finally she felt she’d done the best she could do with her limited knowledge and ability, she finally opened up her IM. But it had gotten so late that neither Casey nor Angus responded. 

While she did have Gregg’s IM, she really didn’t talk with him much. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the bipolar fox, but - other than Angus - she just didn’t have that much in common with him. He struck Bea as a guy who had never really grown up. She could understand Angus’ affection for the kid, but she never could shake the feeling that he was just that - a kid. But she knew better than to assume too much. Who knew what lurked under his careless facade?

Those two would be gone someday too, she knew. Everyone was leaving her life. Mae was gone, Angus and Gregg were making noises about leaving. Casey was practically gone already. The only thing holding all three of them back was opportunity. In a year’s time, it was likely she’d be alone among those she considered her friends.

“Well,” she thought. “That’s not quite true. There’s still Germ.” He didn’t strike her as likely to leave anytime soon. 

For the first time in a long time, she thought about the little guy. It took her a moment to recall his real name, she’d known him as Germ for so long… Jeremy Warton, that was it. Odd fellow, Germ Warfare. Mostly harmless and trustworthy to a fault, but never the kind of guy you think about. Though he’d never gone on one of his rants around her, she knew he was an active environmentalist, and still rode his bicycle rather than drive a car - ostensibly because it was better for the environment, but of course he was working for her under-the-table part time. Bea knew from first hand experience the cost of maintaining a car. Germ probably couldn’t afford one regardless.

So yeah, even when all her friends had gone, she could still count on Germ. And he provoked about as much interest in her as green beans. But she wasn’t going to beat herself up over that. Who knows what sparked interest and what didn’t? She certainly didn’t. But she could imagine that Germ would grow old here. Growing a potbelly. Watching sports. Yeah, he fit in. A little weird but very much a Possum Springs ‘guy’. Maybe that’s why she never really thought about him. And that wasn’t fair for such a loyal guy as Germ, but it’s how it was.

*********************************************

Casey stopped into the store early Saturday morning, but he apologized, asking only to use the restroom. She nodded to the back room and didn’t see when he left, having had to go to the warehouse to check on some weatherproofing goods.

“Hey Casey,” she sent that night on IM.

“Hi Bea.”

“I haven’t seen much of you these days. Did I scare you away?”

There was a pause. Obviously he was formulating a response to that. She wondered what that implied.

“No. I’ve just been busy. Did you get the bass part for that song tonight?”

“I did. I like the song btw. My bass part probably sucks, but I guess we’ll find out tomorrow night. How about you? Finish the lyrics yet?”

“Yeah. I… like them too.”

“Can’t wait to hear it. What have you been doing? Still using?”

Another long pause. She knew the answer before she read it.

“Yeah. A little.”

She considered how best to respond. Of course she didn’t like it, but she wasn’t his parents. She wasn’t really anybody to him, she knew.

“Casey… well. I guess I have no right to say anything. Beatrice the Pure, you know. But… well, I guess thanks for being honest.”

“Sorry. It’s not easy, living my life.”

“Not easy living. But it beats the alternative.”

“I guess.”

Bea considered something. Something drastic for her. As much as it went against every ounce of her ‘Bea’-ness, she felt she had to try something.

“Casey… want to go out tomorrow night after the practice?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like… a date?”

Long pause. Long pregnant pause. Long goddammit-why-did-you-have-to-ask-that? pause.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“Like, as in, an official date? Do I have to, like, get you a flower or something?”

“Oh god! Please no! Just… I’d like to see you again.”

“That doesn’t sound like a thing a ‘friend’ would say.”

“It isn’t.”

“Where?”

“I have an idea. I’ll surprise you. Not like some club or anything. Just a place we can hang out at.”

“Okay! I’ve… never been asked out on a date before, Bea. I don’t really know the protocol. But, I’m definitely looking forward to it.”

“I’ve never asked anyone out on a date before, Casey. Just do me a favor… keep it just between us, okay?”

“Not even Angus?”

“Especially not Angus.”

“No problem. But it might be a little weird at practice.”

“Let it be weird. See you tomorrow, Casey.”

“See you tomorrow, Bea!”

“Um… and… no…”

“Clean and sober. Gotcha.”

“I’ll bring something to drink. Better than stolen whiskey.”

“Ooo! Sounds intriguing!”

“Good night Casey.”

“Good night Bea.”

She closed the IM program and wondered just what it was she was thinking to have asked Casey out on an ‘official’ date. She did think it was relevant that Casey had apparently gone back to using drugs after she had relegated him to Friend status though. And, to be perfectly honest with herself, she wasn’t at all sure she only wanted him as a friend anyway. But she did know where she wanted to take him. It might be fun, in a low-key sort of way. She also happened to have a bottle of nice wine that she hoped he’d appreciate. 

And really, why shouldn’t she have a date with a guy she liked? Surely there was nothing wrong with exploring the idea of a romantic relationship a little bit. Granted, the guy was furry and she was scaly, but he seemed to have no problem with that. She certainly didn’t, and it’s not like interracial relationships were exactly rare. And he did have a rather nice butt…

She resisted the urge to open her drawer. No. If he could give up his habit for a little, it wouldn’t feel right. But she did light a cigarette. She smiled. Casey Hartley. So absolutely not her type, it made sense in a totally screwed-up universe. Who knows? Maybe…

************************************************

The next morning, a part of her was angry at herself for being so happy over something so crass and bourgeois as a date with a drug-addicted likely meth head. Was that the sum of her own self-worth? Was she really this giddy over something that most women her age experienced routinely? Surely she was above something this… normal.

No. No she wasn’t. As hard as her intellect was trying to bring her down to earth, she was nothing less than eager. Even the weather had warmed and felt almost springlike, despite the calendar. For the first time in years, the clock couldn’t move fast enough.

Finally, as the sun began to set, Gregg, Angus and Casey came into the store.

“Hi guys!” she said, barely concealing her emotions.

“Hey Bea. You ready?”

“I should stay open a little longer, but what the hell. Nobody’s here. I’ll close up early. Wait for me outside, I’ve got some stuff to gather up.”

Minutes later the Ol’ Pickaxe went dark early and Bea couldn’t help the smile that covered her face no matter what she did.

“Bea! Casey wrote a new song!” Gregg said excitedly, his arms waving like wet noodles.

“I know, Gregg. I wrote a bass line for it.”

“It’s great!”

“What’s it called?”

“Die Anywhere Else!”

Bea looked at Casey, who shrugged.

“Die Anywhere Else huh?”

“Had a nice ring to it,” Casey said humbly.

“Well, come on - let’s give it a try.”

Germ was waiting on them when they got to the Party Barn and slipped inside. Bea had a little problem with her backpack, that now not only contained her laptop and interface cables to the PA system, but also a bottle of wine, grapes, cheese and crackers that she dare not let the others see.

Shortly she’d gotten everything connected to her laptop and booted up, while Gregg had finished tuning and Angus had done the traditional “Test One, Two, Three” into the mic.

“Okay Bea,” Casey said. “Go ahead. Count it off…”

“Okay. Eight count. Casey, try this. Closed hi-hat for four, open hi-hat for four along with the click-track. Ready?”

“Oh! Suddenly you’re a musician? Well, okay!”

tick.tick.tick.tick.TSH.TSH.TSH.TSH

And the song started. But Bea was no longer paying much attention to the melody. She was listening to Angus singing Casey’s words. And she knew exactly who those words were written for.

Crocodile tears began to well up. At no time, ever, in her entire life, had her heart been this emotionally pierced. She couldn’t even try to bottle it up. The best she could do was to turn away from the other band members and pretend to concentrate on her laptop. It was only tempered by the thought that the feeling might never come back again. At that moment, even in the most cynical part of her mind, she knew without a doubt that she was in love.

But Germ saw.


	8. Beatrice Santello - Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All stories are rollercoasters. Some start high, go low, then climb back up. Some do this over and over. If you've played NitW (and why would you be here otherwise?), you already know how this has to end. But I'm giving you the chance to get off the rollercoaster right here, at the high point. Thanks for the ride and have a nice day!
> 
> For all us realists, well... just imagine how happy they both are right now. Sometimes that's the best you ever get. Just a few short days and nights. But it's better than none. Even if the rollercoaster can't stay at the top for long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Image by PolarisSketches (rather obviously)
> 
> Also, a link to Mandopony's version of Die Anywhere Else. The best cover I've heard. (Though the original without the vocal at all is still righteous.) But it needs to have the lyrics sung. This should be on loop while reading this chapter. :)
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6kYTe25h-bU

 

“Sorry guys, got something in my eyes. I’ll be right back.”

The excuse was lame, but seemed to suffice for Angus and Gregg at least, as she found the sanctuary of the bathroom for a few minutes after the song was over. She recomposed herself as best she could. Her eye-shadow was a mess. She washed it off roughly, dried her eyes and waited to be sure the stupid fountains wouldn’t start again before reapplying the makeup.

“So, what did you think Bea? Pretty good huh?” asked Clueless Gregg when she returned.

“I like it… a lot,” she said, smiling weakly as she climbed back up on the platform that served as their stage. Casey smiled back at her proudly.

The rest of the practice seemed to drag on forever when really all she wanted was to be alone with Casey, but she got through it. She whispered for Casey to meet her at her car behind the Pickaxe, then they all went their separate ways. 

The moon was out as Bea waited in her car, the engine running. The black-clad form of Casey came around the corner, smiling under his hoodie.

“Is this the right car?” he asked as he opened the passenger door and slid in beside her.

“Casey. That song…”

“I… guess you figured it out then?”

“Not exactly a mystery, Case.”

“You really did like it?”

In answer, Bea slid over across the bench seat and hugged him tightly, pulling him down over her as she lay on his lap.

“It was… beautiful,” she said, her eyes welling up again, but she fought against turning all blubbery again. Heavy eye-shadow running down her face would not leave the sort of impression she was hoping for. She may not have fur, but if Casey liked her at all, she wanted to look the best she could for him. 

“It was for you, you know,” Casey said, kissing her lightly, which she returned as best she could. She felt herself turning to warm butter in his arms.

Her eyes were shining when she responded in a whisper a minute later, “I know. I’ve never had someone write a song for me before.”

Casey laughed at that. “I never have either!”

“Seriously,” she said, sitting back up again and composing herself. “It’s really good. And no matter what, no one can ever take that away from me. I have a song!”

“You do, Bea. It’s for you.”

“Thanks Casey. Now let’s go before I completely lose it, okay?”

“Sure!” Casey said, but he unbuckled his seat belt and lay his head on her lap as she drove out of town.

“That’s not safe, you know.”

“I know,” Casey said, his eyes closed. “But it’s comfortable!”

“Well don’t get too comfortable. We’re not going far.”

“Is it in Possum Springs?” asked Casey, somewhat muffled.

“Umm… I don’t think so. Technically.”

“Then it’s heaven.”

She felt his hot breath between her legs and she hit the brakes, both literally and figuratively.

“Whoa lover-boy! Hold those horses. This is our first date!”

Casey stopped and apologized.

“Sorry Bea. I… ”

She started driving again, stroking his head.

“Don’t worry about it. You know as much as anyone that I’m a sexual creature too. But no matter my feelings towards you, Case, it’s still our first date. Let’s not rush things, okay?”

“You’re probably right. But can I stay here? It’s comfy.”

“Sure, basket-Case. I’ll try not to wreck and get you dismembered.”

“You don’t know me that well yet, it’s true. You don’t know how quickly I can fuck things up, Bea. If I’m coming on too fast, I think it’s just because I know this can’t last.”

“To be honest, Case, I’m actually surprised you find me attractive. I think I’m a little like you. I know it can’t last too. I also know I’ll fuck things up too, but instead of going too fast, I tend to try to work things out slowly because of that. I need to go slow, Casey.”

“You got it.”

She got to their destination and pulled into the long gravel driveway, only finished recently.

“We’re here.”

Casey looked up. It was dark outside. Only the moonlight lit the landscape, shining on the bones of a house. The smell of fresh lumber was strong.

“Wow! Is this…?” Casey asked, getting out of the car. 

“Yup. This is the Grant house.”

“They are FAST!”

“Within 2 weeks the outside will be basically complete. By the end of the month the inside will be ready for carpet. They don’t waste time on new construction. Come on, let’s go inside. Just watch out for nails.”

Casey followed Bea over rough dirt onto the porch. There was no real roof in place yet, but they could still make out the basic layout of the place.

“Wait!” Casey smiled, and picked up Bea bodily.

“Casey, what are you doing?” Bea asked sardonically.

Casey carried her across the threshold.

“Well, that’s a first!” Bea laughed. “Now set me down!”

“Our new house. What do you think?”

“It needs paint. But that’s okay - I’m delivering that next week. Come on, I’ll show you around…”

Bea and Casey walked through the skeletal structure as Bea pointed out the different rooms. The stairway, though without handrails yet, was solid enough and they went up to the second story.

“…and this,” Bea said, “is the Master Suite. Note the built-in shower. Yup, you can take a shower without even leaving the privacy of your own bedroom suite!”

“What’s this little room? Surely too small to be a closet.”

“That, my friend, is the toilet. It has its own door for modesty. And… other reasons.”

“Nice. I’ll take it.”

“You haven’t even asked the price yet, sir! All this can be yours for less than half a million dollars!”

“Practically a steal!”

“Now, pardon me while I make the bed,” Bea laughed, and laid out the blanket, wine and cheese.

“I’m taking a shower,” Casey said, playing along. 

A minute later she had everything prepared and turned around to see Casey naked.

“I’m ready,” he said in a low voice.

“I see that! Casey, no.”

“What? Isn’t this the honeymoon suite?”

“Casey, I’m not going to…”

“I know. I’m not going to try anything. I promise.”

“You mean it? Casey, I swear I really don’t want…”

“I promise.”

“Jeeze. Okay. If you insist. How do you feel about wine?”

“I don’t know really. I’ve never had it!”

“Well, bring that… thing over here and try some.”

She poured a glass for them both and handed one to Casey, trying her best not to be distracted. And failing.

Casey tasted the wine cautiously.

“Jeeze, it’s not gasoline,” Bea scowled.

“Eh. not bad.”

“Not bad?! That’s… well. Never mind. I’m glad you like my not-bad wine.”

“I like grape juice better,” he grinned. “Say, I hear wine can really stain clothes…”

“Well you don’t have to worry about that!”

“No, but you do.”

“Casey, it’s black. All my clothes are black. Not much worry in…”

Casey tilted his head quizzically.

“Oh,” she said. “Casey… I’m a little body-conscious.”

“I know. It wouldn’t be special otherwise.”

“But… what if you don’t like me?” she protested, knowing full well it was futile.

“Bea, I already like you. Surely you know that by now.”

“Yeah but… I’m not a cat.”

“No. That you are definitely not.”

“Oh gawd. You’re going to make me do this, aren’t you?”

“No Bea. If I’m pushing too hard, just tell me. I’ll put my clothes back on and we can forget it.”

“No. Don’t do that!” she grinned back at him, momentarily realizing what a gator’s grin might look like. 

“But… nothing else, right?”

“I promised, Bea. No matter what else I am, I’m not a liar.”

Bea began unshackled her boots. There really was no better way to put it.

“Not exactly a sexy strip tease,” she laughed nervously.

“Depends on the audience. Works for me!”

She pulled the boots off, then her leggings, hopping off-balance at the second leg.

Casey stood up and held her steady around her back. She looked at him side wise. 

“It’s a lot easier to do sitting on my bed.”

Finally, she’d finished and she stood before him naked.

“This is when you’re supposed to say how beautiful I am,” she said, eyes downcast but watching his face closely.

“You’re beautiful, Bea.”

“Am not.”

Casey stepped up close and lifted her snout.

“You are. Now dance with me, gator girl.”

“I don’t really know how to dance. And we don’t have any music.”

“Neither do I. Just hold me close and sway. I think that’s how it’s done. As for music, I don’t really need any.”

Under the moonlight, on the outskirts of Possum Springs and visible only to a handful of high-flying lightning bugs, Casey Hartley and Beatrice Santello danced naked in the unfinished house of the general manager of the Ham Panther. If their steps were a little awkward and their music was nothing more than crickets and the occasional car passing on the highway far away, they didn’t notice. They noticed nothing but each other. For a few brief and stolen moments - far from the trouble of their lives, the impossibility of their love and the fickleness of fate - they danced in their own world.

But nothing lasts forever, it’s said. Nothing except that tired old phrase. 

“That was… nice,” Bea said as they came to a stop.

“Yeah. Thanks Bea. Thanks for that.”

“Seems weird, you thanking me when I feel like I should be thanking you.”

“And as for my promise, I will now get dressed.”

“Such chivalry as the world has never known,” Bea said sarcastically, but as she watched him turn away, she had a second thought.

“Wait. Let’s… eat like this.”

Casey walked back over and sat on the blanket as Bea refilled their glasses.

“I feel like we should toast something.”

Bea laughed and pointed to his manhood. “Here’s to that!”

Casey scowled but clinked his glass to hers anyway. “And to those,” he added, indicating her chest.

She looked down. “Really? You like them? They’re not very big.”

“Bigger than mine! Bea, they’re lovely.”

“Well thanks.”

“Vive la différence!” Casey said in a passable accent and holding up his glass.

“Indeed! I’ll drink to that!”

They noshed on cheese and grapes while they talked.

“Some couples are more different than others though,” Bea continued.”You don’t think that will be a problem?”

“Certainly not for me. And you? Are you prepared to get fur stuck in your teeth?”

“I’ve got pretty big teeth!” Bea laughed.

“I get your point! But you like… this?” Casey asked.

“I’m probably weird, but yeah. I definitely do.”

“Well then, I don’t see the problem.”

“Oh, it will be a problem.”

“Others have managed. It’s not like we’re the first interracial couple ever.”

“True. There are bigger problems.”

Casey nodded. “I know. It’s not easy, Bea. But I think maybe I could manage, with your help.”

“I’ll do all I can, Casey. If you need to detox at my place or something, it’s open for you.”

“I’m not sure I want you to see me like that, Bea.”

“I’m what you’ve got. But let’s forget that tonight anyway, okay?”

Casey set the bottle aside and lay down beside Bea, looking up at the stars.

“Yeah. Let’s forget about that for a little while.”

The two lay side by side for a long time, holding hands.

“Maybe Possum Springs isn’t so bad,” Casey mused, and Bea laid her head on his chest. 

The feel of his furred arm against her breast felt good. Odd, but good.

“You shouldn’t base your future on this, you know,” she said quietly.

“Is there something better I should base it on do you think?”

“Probably. But don’t ask me what that is right now.”

She looked down at him and touched him. He was no longer erect.

“I guess it’s time we called it a night. You’ve lost interest in me.”

Things changed quickly.

“Never mind,” she said with a grin.

“No, you’re right. If we stay like this much longer, it’s going to be tough to keep my promise. Bea, I think maybe Possum Springs might not be so bad - with you in it.”

He kissed her then, and lay on top of her, studiously avoiding too much contact save what was unavoidable.

“Save it for another night, loverboy,” Bea whispered as she accepted his kisses for a while.

WIth a mutual sigh, they parted and got dressed. Bea gathered up what was left, and packed the blanket back into her pack.

“It’s been a great date, Bea.”

“It really has. We should do it again sometime.”

“My promise doesn’t hold past tonight, I should warn you!”

“I hope not. Come on, let’s get back. My dad… well. Honestly he won’t worry about me, but we should get back anyway. Much longer and I’m not sure I’ll want you to keep that promise.”

They drove back in silence, listening to Casey’s radio station and holding hands before Bea dropped him off by his house.

“See you tomorrow?” Casey asked.

“You know where I’ll be.” 

He kissed her long and passionately, and she returned the kiss, before they finally said their ‘good night’s and Bea drove back to park the car behind the Pickaxe and started the short walk home.

She decided that, for this night, she wouldn’t think about tomorrow. She wouldn’t think about her troubles, her mom or her future. She thought only about Casey, and her thoughts proved she wasn’t Beatrice the Pure.

Her father was snoring away when she finally opened the door and stepped into her room. She undressed and looked at herself, trying to see what on earth could turn on a guy so much in her. She couldn’t see it, but she was damn glad he could.

The drawer slid open silently, and she pondered if she should get a replacement. One shaped just a little differently. She didn’t turn on her laptop though. She had memories for that.


	9. Beatrice Santello - Gravity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The laws of the universe are immutable. What goes up must come down. And the higher they climb, the faster the descent.
> 
> Awesome image of Casey Hartley by Frist44

The next morning Bea was feeling good. It was foggy and the radio indicated the possibility of freezing rain, but she couldn’t help herself. She hugged her dad before leaving the apartment, donned her jacket and scarf, and headed in to work.

Germ was there waiting for her again.

“Hi Bea,” he said with a smile. Quite an accomplishment when you have a beak instead of a mouth, but Bea had come to know his mannerisms.

“Hi Germ. How are you doing? I never talk to you much.”

She opened the door for him and shut it behind her.

“Oh, no problem Bea. Got company over again. Seems like we always have some relation or other staying with us. Lots of times I don’t even know who they are! But it’s kinda fun having so much going on all the time. These are from upstate. They talk funny, but they’re okay.”

“Well, you let me know if you need some time alone. The back room is always available. Hey, Germ… I’m feeling bold today. Let’s crank that thermostat all the way up to 70! What do you say?”

“Sure!” 

He practically hopped back to turn the thermostat up and she let out a little laugh that felt strange in the old place.

“You’re such an idiot Bea,” she admonished herself. “You’re all giddy just because you touched a dick. You might as well start dressing in floral patterns and wearing cute hats.”

Part of her wanted to slap herself out of it, but most of her was simply happy.

“What’s up today?” Germ asked when he came back. “More inventory?”

“No, I changed my mind. Let’s clean the old place up instead. I feel like doing real work for a change, and it’s been ages. Can you get the cleaning stuff from the warehouse?”

“Will do, Bea.”

Shortly afterwards Bea found herself mopping the floors, while Germ was washing the windows.

“So, Bea. Do you want to talk about it?”

“About what?” 

“Casey of course!”

Bea drew in her breath and sighed, long and audibly.

“You know?”

“I was the audience last night you know.”

“Yeah. Casey. I guess I can’t keep it a secret much longer anyway. Me and Casey.”

“He wrote that song for you, didn’t he?”

“Yup. It’s my song,” Bea said wistfully, stopping her mopping.

“Must be nice.”

“It is, Germ. It’s the most… profound thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Bea’s in love,” Germ practically chirped.

“I guess so,” she laughed. “Who’d ever have guessed that could happen?”

“Oh, it’s not so weird,” Germ replied. “You’re not quite the rock you think you are. Never have been.”

“No, I guess I’m not,” Bea admitted. “But Germ… it’s so wonderful and terrible at the same time. I get angry easily, I know. But I don’t get scared, Germ. I’ve never been someone who gets scared.”

“Scared? What’s there to be scared of?”

“You don’t understand, Germ. It makes you so… oh, I don’t know what the word is. Vulnerable? Yeah. It makes you so vulnerable. That’s not something I’m comfortable with.”

“Well, I’m no philosopher Bea, but I think that’s kinda what life is. It’s fragile, no matter how hard you try to be. But it’s nice to see you smile. I don’t think I ever saw you smile before last week. Now you’re practically beaming. You deserve it Bea. Everyone in town knows what you’ve been through. You deserve a little happiness.”

“Well, thanks Germ. You’re a good friend. Just… don’t tell Angus or Gregg yet. Let me and Casey tell them.”

“No problem.”

The bell rang. A regular. Bea looked up, dusted herself off and opened the door.

“Hey Germ, can you do the back room? I’d like to get that done too this morning. I’ll run the shop.”

“No problem, Bea.”

An hour later, the store was empty again and Bea was going over some receipts when Germ stepped out of the back room holding something. He didn’t say anything and Bea looked up.

“Germ? What is it?”

He didn’t answer. He held out his hands over the counter.

“No.”

Bea’s eyes grew large and she felt the blood leave her face.

“Oh no. Oh god! Germ!”

“It was behind some boxes, over by the blanket.”

Bea took what Germ held in his hands, not wanting to believe what she was seeing, but once she held the paraphernalia physically, she could no longer deny it.

“NO!!!” Bea wailed. Her legs began to shake uncontrollably before they turned to noodles and buckled, and she fell to her knees just staring at what she held.

Germ raced around behind the counter and helped her to a sitting position. Her eyes were wet and red already, mascara and eye-shadow running like dark rivers down her eyes.

“Oh Germ. Please wake me up! PLEASE don’t let this be real!”

His own voice shaking, Germ hugged her close. “Sorry Bea. I’m so sorry!”

“Oh god. No. Why here? Anywhere but here! Germ!”

The bell rang and Germ looked up from behind the counter. Another customer.

“Wait here, Bea. I’m going to close up.”

Bea looked up at him and focused for a moment.

“Yes. Yes, do that. Tell them something came up and I had to close. I’ll give them a discount tomorrow or something. Put up a sign.”

“Okay Bea. I’ll be back as soon as I get things squared away.”

She heard Germ talking with the customer, but she wasn’t hearing right. She couldn’t concentrate on what he said. Her heart felt like lead, beating in her chest.

And then she began to think beyond what she was seeing. Her grief turned to rage in increments, but with each passing second the rage became hotter.

“Bea, are you going to be alright?”

Her mascara-streaked eyes looked at him. The bloodshot eyes no longer sought comfort. They had turned hard, but also a deep sadness lay behind them.

“No Germ. I’m not going to be alright ever again I don’t think. Oh Germ. I’ve been so stupid. So GOD DAMNED STUPID!”

She began hitting herself in the head. Germ grabbed her hands and held them together in front of her.

“No, Bea. You’ve been human. Like everyone else that has ever lived. Bea, I know what you’re going through. You’ve been insulating yourself from the world for so long, you’ve forgotten how badly it can hurt. But the only people who don’t hurt are dead. Don’t be dead to the world, Bea. It didn’t work out. But it’s not the end of the world. For you or him. Don’t shut out the whole world because of this.”

Bea looked at Germ for the first time. Really looked at him.

“What are you, Germ?”

“Me? I’m… just Germ. I play video games. I watch you play in the band. I help you around the place. That’s all. I’m just Germ.”

“No. You’re not just Germ. You’re my friend. You’re everyone’s friend. Oh Germ, I’m sorry I could never be more than a friend to you. You deserve… more.”

“Oh Bea, now you’re just being emotional. Snap out of it. I don’t need more. I like being everybody’s friend! I have this uncle though. He’s a janitor. He says these things, like ‘You can’t stop things from breaking, but you can try to keep them from getting worse. And then you try to fix them. You’ve got to learn skills to fix things right though.’ That’s all I am. I want to be like him. I want to fix things.”

“Sorry Germ. I guess you’re right. But damn it hurts. It hurts so goddamn much!”

“I know,” he said, stroking her hands. “I know, Bea.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

“ME? Oh hell no! Thank God no! But I’ve seen it before. I don’t know why people make such a big deal out of it. It always ends in tragedy. Ever Damn Time. And yet…”

“And yet,” she echoed. “And yet, Germ, it’s the greatest feeling ever.”

“Bea, if I was magic and could wipe your memory of Casey - if everything was back to how it was before - would you want me to do that?”

Bea closed her eyes and wiped the tears from them, but they were just replaced with more.

“No. He was so nice. I… no. It’s part of me. I wouldn’t want to lose that.”

“What you felt, Bea… that was real. The universe will break everything, but that doesn’t mean what was there before wasn’t real.”

“It was…oh Germ. I want it back so bad. It was magic.”

“So I’ve heard. Bea, this is going to take a long time to get over. But you will get over it. Try to remember that, for those times when you’re alone in bed, staring at the ceiling and beating yourself up over it. You will get over it, Bea. At least mostly. It’s a kind of death, and you’ll go through the mourning of this death. You’ll want to die with it. But don’t succumb to that. You will get over it. After enough time. For now… all you can do is take the pain.”

“It’s going to take a long time, Germ. How is it possible to get this wrapped up in so little time?”

“That damn four-letter word Bea. It’s a kind of magic.”

“Black magic.”

“Sometimes. But not always, Bea. Sometimes, it actually works out.”

She nodded, and gritted her teeth, and Germ helped her to her feet. She picked up the little bag, the glass pipe, the aluminum foil. She was about to throw them in the garbage when the door opened.

She began to tremble at the person who walked into the Ol’ Pickaxe. She turned around so he couldn’t see her face. Germ left and she heard the warehouse door shut behind him, but she heard the words he’d whispered just before he left her side.

“It’s okay to still love him, Bea. There is no shame in that.”

“Good morning Bea! Why is the store closed? Something wrong?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a really tough chapter to write. Let no one think an author doesn't feel for the characters. But the story is the master. And you know where this has got to end. In general, I don't write sad stories. 90% of my stories end happily. But sometimes, they just can't. However, there will be a Part 2. Don't expect resurrections, but that doesn't mean there is no hope in the world either.
> 
> Sorry if I pontificate in a place where it's inappropriate, but I once wrote a story with an OC that I really loved. I'm sure some people write with a tight framework and know every nuance of the story before they write the first word. I don't. This story got to a crucial point and I suddenly realized what the perfect resolution was. But my OC had to die. I researched the situation, but with every word it became more and more clear she was going to die. I thought of Deus Ex-Machina methods of saving her so I could use her in other stories, but I knew that it would hurt the story. So she died. And I felt like I died a little with her.
> 
> And then there was the story that I started, but couldn't write. I'm a big fan of Prequel by Kazerad, and lots of my stories revolve around that. I was going to write Katia's backstory, but as I got started, it became more and more clear how tragic it would have to be. I gave up. I couldn't write it. 
> 
> This isn't that bad, but it still hurts too. So don't feel alone. Still, a good story should touch you, and - at least for me - this one definitely does.


	10. Beatrice Santello - Consequence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bea lowers the boom and the word 'Never" is used. A lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, but I couldn't wait to post this chapter too. I'll at least be good and post the last chapter tomorrow. You guys are too kind. I'm posting this here only. Sort of a reward, though you may not consider it a reward after reading. The last chapter is an epilogue so not much left after this I'm afraid. But very much thanks for sticking with me.
> 
> As to the image, honestly I forget where it came from. There's surprisingly few images of Bea actually angry. Mildly pissed I can find easily, but she rarely is depicted fuming mad. This is simple and in an odd style, but I think it fits.

She turned around, opening her fists to reveal his meth and paraphernalia.

Casey’s face sank.

“Oh shit.”

She started off low, controlled. But the air in the room became charged with an electrical force, and Casey knew it was just a matter of time before the lightning hit.

“Casey, do you know what the police do when they find drugs inside a business?”

Casey also knew he had to take it. He nodded.

“They shut the business down, Casey. They seize it as evidence. But there’s worse. Word gets out. Eventually the business might reopen, but by then its reputation is ruined. They whisper about the ‘drug’ business in the back. It’s doomed, Casey. You can’t recover from that.”

Casey opened his mouth, but Bea shook her head.

“Casey, my mom died over a year ago. My dad is okay at home, but when he comes into this shop, he goes mental. I took over this place because I had to. And I screwed stuff up a lot before I learned how to run a business. But I had to. And the medical bills. Casey, have you ever seen a bill that’s nearly 7 digits long? We had to sell the house. We had to move into that crappy apartment. But even with all that, the Ol’ Pickaxe is all that’s keeping us alive.”

Bea stepped out from behind the counter, walking up to where Casey stood. The look on his face almost broke through Bea’s anger. Almost. She knew she must look awful, but he had done this to her. He should see his handiwork close-up.

“Casey, you know what’s coming. But before I say the words… was it real? Did you love me?”

Casey’s eyes were glassy and his voice broke.

“I did, Bea. I really did. Still do.”

“Kiss me once more then, Casey. Before the storm has to come. I loved you too. I swear I did.”

She felt his shaking arms enfold her and he kissed her fiercely. Momentarily she broke and accepted his kiss and returned it sincerely. All too soon it was over, but for a brief moment, she was broken.

But then the walls came up again and she turned stiff. Casey released her, crying now without sound.

“I knew I would fuck it up.”

“Casey, not here. I could have forgiven a lot. I knew who I was dealing with. But not here. This is my life Casey! Do you understand? Not here.”

“I had to put it som…” 

“You didn’t think, Casey. You didn’t think about me. You could have ruined my life and my father’s life. No. There is no excuse possible. Casey, I loved you. You are worthy of love. You are not a bad guy. But this…”

She brought up the evidence and slowly crushed it before his eyes. The glass broke and bit into her fist, but she didn’t stop. Her anger was focused now on the goddamned drug. It hurt, but she kept squeezing because it didn’t hurt nearly as much as her heart hurt.

“Bea! Your hand!!!” Casey cried.

“Fuck my hand Casey. Fuck this goddamn drug. I’ll heal. You won’t. Now get the hell out, Casey Hartley. Get out of my life and never come back. I never want to see you again. Do you understand? NEVER!”

Casey hesitated.

Bea held threw the bloodied crap to the floor and stomped on it. SHe thrust her bleeding hand out and pointed to the door.

“GET THE HELL OUT OF MY STORE!”

That got him moving. He took one look back, but she hadn’t moved.

“FUCK YOU CASEY HARTLEY! GET OUT!”

He left her life, closing the door gently behind him.

Bea balled up her bleeding fist and dripped all the way to the bathroom where she rinsed her hand, not feeling the pain. She plucked shards of glass from her fist while barely able to see through her blurry eyes. Then she wrapped her hand up with paper towels.

“BEA?” called the voice of Germ. “Bea! Where are you?!”

“I’m in here Germ. I cut myself.”

Germ came into the bathroom, a panicked look on his face.

“Bea. You’ve got to get someone to look at that. You’re bleeding a lot! It’s all over the floor.”

“Can’t afford it,” Bea said weakly, then sat on the toilet, her hand still in the sink.

“Come on. One of my aunts is a nurse. She can fix you up.”

“Thanks Germ,” Bea said, feeling weak and spent. She looked at the trail of blood she’d left. There was quite a bit.

Germ grabbed a stack of brown paper towels and ushered Bea out the back.

“Lock the door,” Bea reminded him, and he left her to lock the front door of the Ol’ Pickaxe before helping her out the back way.

He got her into the passenger seat of her car and sat in the driver’s seat.

“You ever driven before, Germ?” she asked. The towels in her fist were red and she was starting to feel faint.

“Sure. In my driver’s ed class. I’ll manage Bea.”

And he did manage. It wasn’t pretty, but he got her to his house. Bea was barely conscious by then. She vaguely saw a bunch of birds clucking over her and something was pecking at her hand. Pecking HARD. But she had no strength to complain.

She woke up only an hour later, apparently in somebody’s bed. Germ was beside her.

“Oh hell Germ. Was it that bad? I fucking passed out?”

“Yeah. Sorry, but your car’s a mess.”

Bea looked at her hand. It was wrapped in gauze. A woman came in. Big woman.

“Hi Bea. I’m Margie. Looks like you cut yourself pretty bad. What happened?”

“Ah. Just stupid. I broke some glass in my fist.”

“Well, you should be alright. Pretty clean cut, but it’s going to hurt like hell. You got insurance? You should go to a doctor.”

Bea shook her head. Insurance was one of the first luxury items to go when the bills started to come in. Fat lot of good it had done for them.

“Thought so. Nobody around here has insurance. I’ve left some pain pills, an antibiotic treatment and replacement bandages in your bag. Leave the bandage in place till tomorrow, and keep it dry. Tomorrow change the bandage but continue to keep it out of water. By the third day, it should be healed enough to clean gently. Take the antibiotics once a day for 10 days. The pain pills, just take them as you need them.”

“Thanks Margie. But I need to get back.”

“You’re in no shape to drive, girl. Germ? You want to drive her back in town?”

“Sure! Gotta get my bike anyway.”

“Be careful today too, Bea. You’ve lost quite a bit of blood. You’re going to feel weak. Just sit or lie down as much as you can.”

“I will. Thanks Doc.”

“Pffft. I’m no doctor. RN. And that schooling was expensive enough!”

“You know how to fix things. You’re a doctor,” Bea smiled as she got up. “Come on, Germ. Let’s get back to the shop.

Her hand started throbbing on the way back, but she didn’t care. She didn’t even complain about Germ’s less-than-professional driving skills. She looked out the window as the rain began to fall. She thought about Casey. She worried about him, but she knew she shouldn’t. What was done had to be done. But people their age… they get bad ideas when things go wrong. Hopefully he wouldn’t be one of those, but you never could tell for sure. She didn’t want him dead. Just out of her life.

They spent a few minutes in the Pickaxe cleaning up the mess and throwing out Casey’s paraphernalia. Bea put the meth bag into the toilet. Then she sat and let nature take its course. She had to admit to a twinge of perverse justice as she flushed it all down. It had shit on both her and Casey’s lives. It was only fair.

“Okay Germ. That’ll do. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said when she emerged.

“You don’t want to take a day off or something?”

“Can’t. The paint is being delivered tomorrow.”  
“You okay?”

“Okay enough, Germ. With your help.”

She let him out the front door, then locked it behind her and started the long walk back home. It wasn’t normally long, but the rain was starting to freeze on the car windows parked along Main Street, and it was getting slippery out - but she made it home alright.

She told her dad about the cut and Germ’s aunt. She didn’t mention Casey. FInally after dinner she retired to her room. She turned on the laptop, but found she didn’t want to talk to anyone, and shut it back off again.

Then she started to cry again. As usual. As typical. The only difference was what she was crying about this time. It never failed. The inertia always brought her back to this. 

But then she reconsidered and the tears stopped. It actually had been worth it, she decided. She really knew what love was now. She knew how deep it went. Even if she’d only felt it for a few days, she understood now what she could never have understood before. Like Germ, she could have sympathized, but she could never really have known it before.

She thought about that guy from Math Camp. It wasn’t his fault. She wasn’t in love. How could it have been good? She’d dodged a bullet with Casey. It would have been good. She knew it would have. Could lightning strike her a second time? Would she ever feel that way again?

“Nobody knows,” she thought, “but only the dead feel no pain.”

She still felt the loss as keenly as that moment she’d looked at Casey’s heartbroken face. But already she was looking beyond Casey. Not for another love, but just looking forward to life. You never knew what the next day would bring. Boring sameness usually. But not always. Sometimes it brought something new. There would be something new for her. Maybe not tomorrow, but eventually.

She went to sleep on her wet pillow, hand throbbing and worried about Casey. But she went to sleep.


	11. Beatrice Santello - Missing/Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The End.

The next day passed as usual. She managed to get her 5 minutes of peace, even if she did have to be careful with her hand. Germ was waiting at the door and expressed his concern, but she assured him she was alright. She had to take the pain pill around mid-morning, but she immersed herself in her work and tried not to think about things too much. 

The paint was delivered. She called the contractor and he picked it up. One of the big tubs of interior paint was in an orange hue that reminded her of Casey, and it made her cry a little, but not too much.

Just after noon Angus stopped by.

“Hi Bea. I saw the store was closed yesterday, and you weren’t on IM. You okay?”

She held up her bandaged hand.

“Oh! What happened?”

“Just cut myself on some glass. It’ll be okay. I’m good.”

“You got antibiotics?”

“Yup. One of Germ’s aunts patched me up. I’m fine.”

“Well that’s good! Have you seen Casey? His parents were looking for him.”

A cold chill ran down Bea’s spine and her eyes betrayed her concern. “No. I haven’t seen him since yesterday. He didn’t come home last night?”

“I guess not. Not the first time he hasn’t come home though. He’ll turn up.”

“I’m not so sure, Angus. We had a falling out yesterday,” Bea said, worried now in earnest. She proceeded to tell Angus of their relationship that had bloomed and so quickly died.

“Oh shit. Bea, you think he might have done something?”

“I don’t know, Angus. I was pretty hard on him. Maybe.”

“Bea, I think we need to talk to the police.”

She nodded, knowing it was the right thing to do. She didn’t hate the cops. She knew they were necessary. But she didn’t like to have to talk to them either.

“I’ll talk to them. I’ll call them now. You’d better get back to the Outpost.”

“Okay. Sorry Bea.”

Bea nodded and picked up the old phone. The dust had been cleaned off of it yesterday. She didn’t use it much.

The voice on the other end of the line wasn’t familiar to her, but it was professional. She explained the situation briefly.

“We’ll have someone come over. The Ol’ Pickaxe you say? No need for the address, we know where it is. Thanks for calling, Bea.”

It was, of course, Mae’s aunt that dropped by later that afternoon.

“Yeah, I’m her aunt. Just call me Molly. Is there somewhere we can talk privately?”

Bea led her back into the warehouse.

“Thanks for parking out back, Molly. People talk.”

“I know too well, Bea,” the policewoman said, taking out a notepad.

“Don’t you have detectives for this sort of thing?”

“Bea. This is Possum Springs. We’ve got like 5 people on the payroll. We have one detective, and he’s been busy as hell lately. Casey’s not the only person that’s been reported as missing recently.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Really. Now, tell me about Casey.”

Bea proceeded to tell Molly everything. She briefly considered leaving out the part about the meth, but decided it was probably too important to lie about.

“No problem,” Molly assured her. “This isn’t a drug investigation. You’re fine. So you haven’t seen or heard from him since yesterday afternoon?”

“Yeah. About 2 pm I think.”

“Okay. Got it. Bea, I have one more question. Not for the record, just so I know. What do you think has happened to him?”

“I hope he did what he said he’d do. I hope he hopped on a train and got the hell out of town.”

Molly looked directly at her. “But…”

“I’m afraid he’s committed suicide - but mind you I don’t at all know that! He never talked about anything like that. But… I can’t help but be afraid of the possibility. I came down on him pretty hard. Besides that possibility, I think the most likely thing is that he’s holed up doing drugs somewhere.”

“Thanks Bea. We’ll send some people out to the railroad tracks to see if we can find anything. Bea, if the worst has happened… this isn’t your fault. You know that, right?”

Tears started to well up in her eyes again. She really thought there must be a limit, but apparently Tear Ducts Spring Eternal.

“Yeah. I do. Will you tell me what you find?”

“I’m not supposed to. But yes. I’ll let you know if we find anything. Doesn’t sound like the other cases though. Hopefully he just left.”

“Thanks,” Bea said, rising to show her out.

“I’ll go out the back way. I understand, Bea. And you were right to do what you did. If for some reason I’d have come here about the drugs and found them here… well, I wouldn’t be leaving by the back door.”

“Thanks Molly. I hope you find him.”

“Me too Bea. His parents have already called. They want us to file a Missing Persons alert for him, but it’s too soon for us to do that yet.”

“But… I heard he’s been gone overnight before.”

“Yes, but he left his skateboard. They say he NEVER leaves his skateboard.”

“And he has a drum kit in the Party Barn that’s still there. Angus told me that.”

“Is that Angus Delaney? Works at the Video Outpost?”

Bea suddenly got worried. Had she let something slip?

As if reading her mind, Molly spoke up.

“Bea, I’m just a person. Like you and everyone else. I just want to find out what happened to Casey. I’m not here to harass you or Angus. But he might have some knowledge that he doesn’t realize too. I’m just going to talk to him, like you.”

“Yeah. Angus Delaney. He’ll be there now.”

“Thanks Bea. And good luck with the hand.”

Bea nodded and showed the officer out. Then she called Angus to let him know what he was in for.

“No problem Bea. Really. You told her everything? Even…”

“Everything. I don’t need the law on me Angus.”

“Yeah. I know what you mean. Yeah, she just walked in. Talk to you later.”

Angus hung up the line and Bea set the handset down. In other towns they’d have cell phones. Not here. This was Possum Springs.

“What’s up?” Germ asked. “Something about Casey?”

“Yeah. He’s gone missing.”

“Oh shit. The copper’s got him.”

“No Germ. The coppers didn’t ‘get him’. They’re just trying to find him.”

“I bet he hopped a train.”

“I hope so, Germ. I really do. Still, I can’t see him leaving without his skateboard. I just hope he didn’t do anything stupid.”

“I guess we’ll find out eventually.”

“I guess so,” Bea said.

But she never saw Casey Hartley again. Posters were put up. People were questioned. But he was never seen again. Eventually minutes would go by when Bea didn’t think about Casey. Then hours. Then days. The posters blew away. His parents stopped being seen asking passerby if they’d seen him. The weather crept ever closer to winter.

Finally, one day, Gregg and Angus stopped by and asked her if she would mind programming the drum parts to their songs too. Bea thought it was silly. Soon everything would be on the computer and there’d be no reason to practice. But she already had the old songs’ parts programmed, and Angus was her friend. Plus Gregg was as excitable as ever and his enthusiasm was contagious. She took the old cassette tape home and spent a few evenings getting the drums right on the new stuff. And her song.

Then they practiced one Sunday night, and she felt hollow. Casey’s drum kit had been taken away. There was a hole where he used to be. The drums she’d programmed were perfect. Too perfect. They hit every beat exactly on time. The music sounded dead to her.

After that, she begged off of playing with the band anymore. She gave Angus the files so he could play them, but they stopped practicing too. It felt like everything was shutting down.

And then one day she got a call from Angus. Terse and urgent, he begged her to come by the Party Barn. Apparently Gregg had gone hyper and absolutely HAD to practice. Urgently.

“Hey Germ, can you hold down the fort? Apparently there’s an URGENT band meeting. Like, now.”

“No problem Bea. You gonna be back?”

“I really don’t know. If not, can you leave the key in the ‘special place’ for me?

“Sure.”

Bea walked over to the old Party Barn, her laptop in tow. Her hand had healed long ago - not that she needed it to press a key. When she looked through the window, she saw an unexpected face. 

Mae had returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be writing another Bea story, set after the events of NitW. No, Casey doesn't magically return. Let's get that out of the way. Still conceptualizing it so may be a bit before it starts. But for what it's worth, I love this story even if I did write it myself. Is that so wrong? But then, I've always loved Bea. It was hard NOT to play through a game without following her line. I managed once, with Gregg. Every other time I go back to Bea. Oof.


End file.
